An Abnormal Life
by Jemima123
Summary: Sherlock Holmes never thought he would fall for a girl as ordinary as a secretary. But he did in the form of Scarlett Jenson. However, when you mix an ordinary girl with an extraordinary man then the results can vary.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So before I begin I thought I had best inform you all that this is going to be a sequel to my other fanfic which is called Walk of Mystery with Sherlock and my OC, Scarlett. I did say I was going to write a sequel and I didn't think I would be doing it as quick as this but I can't study all the time and I need something to occupy my brain and so this is going to be just that! You don't necessarily need to know what happened in a Walk of Mystery to read this, just that Sherlock ended up with Scarlett, managed to kill some bad guys (Moriarty included) and Scarlett went through a miscarriage during her accidental pregnancy with Sherlock's baby. Anyway, enough of my constant irrational babbling and onto the main show! Not sure where it is going to lead but I have many ideas and if anyone else has any thoughts then let me know! Enjoy and please do review!

...

Life with Sherlock would never be dull. That was a fact of life and anyone who knew the consulting detective knew that statement to be true. And Scarlett Jenson was well aware of that fact. Living with Sherlock was like living on a rollercoaster for your entire day. He often left at odd hours in the evening and then he often came back whilst Scarlett was out working for the law firm that employed her as a secretary. The only other sane person in the flat was John. Sherlock liked to class himself as sane, but what sane person kept heads in fridges? None that came to mind for Scarlett.

"Ah," a voice boomed when Scarlett walked into the flat that night and dropped her keys onto the coffee table as Sherlock remained laid on his sofa, eyes closed and nicotine patches on his arm. "You're back."

"Evidentially," Scarlett replied. "And what have you been doing today?"

"Oh the usual," Sherlock replied in a slow drawl. "Running around London after serial killers. They're always the best. There's always a part of them which wants to get caught which makes it so more exciting than normal killers."

"Right," Scarlett replied flatly. "Many people would consider that an abnormal thing to like."

"That's because many people in this world are too dense and similar," Sherlock informed her as she checked her mail which was on the fireplace and opened it up, yawning as she did so.

"So you keep telling me," Scarlett replied. "And the bill for the electric has come through."

"It's John's turn to pay," Sherlock informed her.

"It's your turn Sherlock," Scarlett replied. "John and I went halves on the last bill."

"It's been a quiet month. And you and John should be the ones dealing with trivial things like bills. Can you imagine the effect it would have on my brain? Having to write out all those cheques...no...I can't be doing with it. Not when there are cases around."

"Would it kill you to cook dinner?" Scarlett responded simply and walked into the kitchen and saw no form of food on the worktop or in the fridge as Sherlock jumped up from the sofa and rolled his sleeves down on his shirt, tearing off the nicotine patches.

"Would you be more impressed if I were to tell you that I am taking you out for dinner?" Sherlock asked her and she simply just shrugged and sighed and ran a hand through her hair slowly.

"I don't know Sherlock," she yawned. "It's been a long day and I can't be bothered to dress up...but the gesture was nice."

"That was the completely wrong answer," Sherlock told her and placed his hand onto the small of her back and began to steer her into the bedroom. "Now get ready, we'll go in about twenty minutes. And I don't want any complaints."

"Is there any use defying you?" Scarlett asked him and he smirked his famous smirk, pulling out his blazer from the wardrobe and shrugging into it.

"Not much use. No," he told her honestly.

...

"Sherlock," Scarlett grabbed onto the detective's arm as she stopped outside the restaurant and hissed at him.

"What is it now?" he asked her, standing on the streets of London, staring down onto his girlfriend.

"How can we afford this place?" she asked him and motioned her head to the side at the expensive restaurant where stepping into the doorway would surely cost ten pounds just for being in its presence.

"As I said," Sherlock drawled and looked down at her. "It's my treat...you've been busy recently and I could see you were stressed."

Scarlett pulled down her cream dress and fiddled with the fake large cream flower which was stuck to the side of the dress on her chest as the material flowed out to just above her knees. She pulled down the long flowing sleeves and then looked at Sherlock.

"Do I look alright?" she asked him. "People in that place...well...they're posh Sherlock..."

"Scarlett," Sherlock dropped his hand onto her cheek and kissed her free cheek. "It is my treat. And you look...well...beautiful...the dress is quite flattering on your frame."

"And you're sure you can afford it?" Scarlett raised a brow and Sherlock offered her his arm to take which she did so and they walked into the restaurant.

"Don't worry about money," he whispered. "And besides, I helped the owner out on a case and so I should be able to get us a good deal come to think about it." Sherlock turned ever so slightly frugal and Scarlett smirked at the floor. Once they had been seated-where Sherlock had asked-he looked over at Scarlett and remained emotionless for a moment as she sipped on the wine which was already at the table.

"What?" she asked him.

"Nothing," he responded.

"Quite clearly there was something," Scarlett replied. "Hence why you were staring at me like you were."

"Are you trying to fish for compliments?" Sherlock asked her and she grinned over at him.

"They never fall onto deaf ears," she replied and then began to look at the menu as her eyes opened wide at the prices. Sherlock did the same but every so often his eyes darted over Scarlett's shoulder to the outside world where he was looking for someone in particular. Something which Scarlett did not miss.

"Sherlock," she began in a serious tone. "I have something to tell you...about my work..."

"Uh," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "What mundane thing has happened in that company now?"

"Nothing," Scarlett shook her head. "In fact it could be something quite exciting I think."

"I doubt it...ah..." Sherlock's face suddenly lit up. "He's here."

"What?" Scarlett replied. "Who's here?"

"The killer. Don't turn around, it will look suspicious." Sherlock told her as his eyes remained on the man.

"So the only reason we are here is so that you can catch a killer?" Scarlett checked. She shouldn't have been surprised.

"He's been striking at eight o'clock every night. He has a pattern you see. And when you look at where he has been killing on a map then it makes a star shape...well it does so far...and the this is the fifth point exactly...that house over there is anyway...and the man entering the house looks far too...what's the word?" Sherlock asked her.

"Shady? Suspicious? Out of place?" Scarlett asked as she swirled the wine in her glass and looked on at it.

"I prefer the word suspicious," Sherlock told her. "He's too suspicious to be going in and so he has to be the killer."

Sherlock quickly pulled out his phone and began to text Lestrade quickly.

"I'll be back quickly," Sherlock told her and he stood up hastily, buttoning his blazer jacket. "And then you can tell me of this droll job thing," he waved a hand.

"Where are you going?" she asked him.

"To catch a killer. Where else?" Sherlock said and she stood up.

"You can't go alone," she told him.

"And you can't come either," he said forcefully. "Now sit down and wait for the food."

...

"Why is it," Scarlett began, "that a night out with you always end up a disaster?"

"I prefer to think of it as adding excitement to your life," Sherlock grinned. He was sat on the step of an ambulance whilst Scarlett had taken over the nurses' job of holding a cotton wool piece to his head to stop the bleeding.

"That too," she replied.

"Anyway," Sherlock changed the topic, "what is this about your job?"

"Oh yes," Scarlett suddenly remembered. "Mr High...well he wants me to train up and become a solicitor...apparently I have the potential."

"You do," Sherlock agreed. "You're not that stupid."

"Thanks," she said dryly. "And that would mean a pay rise...which would mean other things...and I think it may be more...well...satisfying to do."

"Couldn't agree more," Sherlock told her. "The law is interesting to learn."

"So you think it is a good thing?" Scarlett checked with him and he nodded.

"Completely. The job market is tough...or so John keeps telling me. Any chance of a higher paying job is a good chance for workers to take up. It is common sense."

"There's one problem Sherlock," Scarlett told him.

"Which is?"

"The firms moving," she stated.

"Oh," he said simply. "A new office building in London?"

"To Australia."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sherlock," Scarlett called after the consulting detective as he walked down the street with haste. Scarlett ran after him, moving under the crime scene tape and ignoring Sally Donovan's calls of her to take up something safe like knitting.

"Sherlock," Scarlett sighed when she managed to grasp onto his arm and turn him to face her. He looked at her with wide eyes, his nose wrinkling up as he did so.

"I thought you were following me," Sherlock told her.

"You just walked off Sherlock. What is it?" she asked him. "I know it is a bit of a bombshell and I was shocked too...I mean I was excited...but shocked."

"Excited?" Sherlock cocked a brow at her and waited for her to explain.

"It's Australia Sherlock," she said as if it were self explanatory. "The lifestyle down under is so much more relaxed then it is in London...and the pay would be better..."

"Are you seriously considering this?" Sherlock asked and he chuckled in disbelief at her and ran a hand through his black curls.

"I thought I would be daft not to contemplate it," Scarlett told him honestly. "It is a once in a lifetime opportunity...and if there is more pay then that would help...for the future..."

"The future?" Sherlock asked her and she simply just continued to look at him with her large blue eyes.

"We were going to have a child at one point Sherlock," Scarlett told him.

"By accident," he replied. "We never planned to have a child."

"But we were going to raise one," Scarlett pointed out, her voice going high pitched as she looked at him and he wrapped his arm around her waist and began to lead her down the street.

"You're not going to make a scene in public Scarlett," he told her. "People like to talk."

"You...you don't want a family with me. Do you?" she asked him and he hailed a cab and ushered her into it. He didn't answer her question and instead he continued to look out of the window with his hands clasped together and a finger resting on his lips. Once the cab pulled up to 221B Baker Street Scarlett jumped out and found her keys, allowing Sherlock to pay for the fare.

"Good night?" John asked her as soon as she entered the flat and dumped her bag onto the floor.

"Sherlock managed to solve another case," Scarlett replied and shrugged out her coat as she heard Sherlock move up the stairs and as soon as he entered the doorway to the living room Scarlett moved off to the bedroom and John raised his brow at his friend.

"She's in a mood with me," Sherlock grunted. "Even though she is the one who caused this complete and utter mess."

"What's happened now?" John asked him and Sherlock undid the button to his blazer and stalked off down the hallway.

"What hasn't happened?" Sherlock grunted and opened the door to his room and saw Scarlett stood in nothing but her bra and pants as she hung up her dress and Sherlock stood back and gulped for a moment.

"You should have knocked," Scarlett muttered.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Sherlock told her and coughed awkwardly as she placed her hand onto her hip and looked over to him.

"So what now?" she snapped.

"You put some clothes on and then we have an adult discussion," Sherlock told her and she huffed but complied as she reached for her oversized tee-shirt.

"Do you think you could ever consider having a family with me?" Scarlett jumped straight to the point and Sherlock simply just shrugged.

"I don't know," he replied. "It is not something which I have thought of since we lost the baby Scarlett."

"Really?" she asked him. "Not at all?"

"I didn't know if you would want a family," Sherlock replied. "After what had happened."

"Of course I want a family Sherlock," Scarlett said. "And I want the best for my child..."

"And you think moving to Australia would provide that?" Sherlock asked her and she shrugged.

"A flat isn't big enough Sherlock...not for children..."

"Children?" Sherlock scoffed.

"Yes," she replied. "Plural."

"Jesus Christ," Sherlock whispered and took of his blazer and threw it to the end of the bed.

"I just wondered if Australia would be a better place to raise a family and I would also have a good job too," Scarlett whispered and shrugged.

"And am I involved in any of these plans?" Sherlock asked her and she rolled her eyes.

"I love you Sherlock," she told him. "I want all these things with you."

"Then I hate to disappoint you," Sherlock said lowly and coldly to her, "but I am not moving to Australia."

"I thought you would say as much," Scarlett replied. "I just hoped..."

"You hoped I would drop all my work here in London and run off with you to Australia all because you have been offered a better job and are broody?" Sherlock asked her. "So what? You think that you can become the working mum and I can be the stay at home father?"

"I never said anything like that," Scarlett snapped. "We both know that you staying at home and looking after a child would kill you...and maybe the child."

"And if you take this offer than you will hardly have any free time," Sherlock informed her. "Solicitors work long hours."

"I am well aware," Scarlett said.

"So then you can clearly see that you and I would have no time to look after a child," Sherlock concluded.

"I'd make time Sherlock," she assured him. "But I need to know if there is any chance of us having a family."

"Oh," Sherlock simply said. "You want to know that if there is no chance of us having children then you can go to Australia and take this opportunity without feeling guilty."

"Well..." Scarlett looked uncomfortable. "I can't stay with you knowing we want different things."

"You're still so young Scarlett," Sherlock told him. "You don't need to make a rash decision now."

"I need to know Sherlock!" she snapped. "This offer won't come around again..."

"I'm not going to Australia Scarlett," Sherlock told her firmly.

"I get that," she assured him. "And I don't know if I really want to go...I mean...I have thought about it."

"Clearly," Sherlock drawled. "And do you honestly think I would make a good father?"

"There was a point where you were going to be a father," Scarlett informed him.

"How can I forget?" Sherlock murmured and sat down on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands.

"Can you just tell me?" Scarlett whispered.

"Quite clearly the reason as to why I am not telling you is because I do not know the answer," Sherlock replied honestly and looked into her eyes.

"So it isn't a definite no?" Scarlett asked and sat behind him on the bed. She knelt down, her legs going either side of Sherlock as she wrapped her arms around his midriff and laid her head on his shoulder.

"No Scarlett," Sherlock assured her. "It isn't a definite no."

"If you don't want to go to Australia then I understand," Scarlett promised him. "I don't know if I want to go. London is home...but if we are going to have a family then I would like a bigger house."

"You're speaking in the future tense," Sherlock informed her. "But how far in the future are we speaking?"

"I...Two years maximum Sherlock," she told him. "I want to be a young parent."

"Right," Sherlock said and took her hands into his own.

"So I will tell Mr High tomorrow that I am grateful for the opportunity but I simply can't go because I have you here and you have your work...and without that I fear for your life."

"Don't mention the fearing for my life part," Sherlock told her. "It may make you sound crazy."

"Living with you has made me crazy," she told him and he turned his head to the side to look at her with a grin on his face.

"Thanks very much," Sherlock took it as a compliment.

"You're welcome," Scarlett said dryly. "But...as long as there is a chance...then...I don't want to leave you."

"I don't really want you to leave me," Sherlock said. "If I have to be blatantly honest."

"And you're always blatantly honest," Scarlett said and he kissed her softly on the lips.

"This is true," Sherlock agreed with her. "Now...can we please forget about this and carry on how we were?"

"You know what I want?" Scarlett asked him and he nodded.

"I am aware," he said.

"And if there is even a small chance that you want the same...then I am willing to give you time to come around to the idea of a family."

"How nice of you," Sherlock told her and managed to make her lie down on the bed, his weight on top of her as he pushed her blonde hair from her face and then leaned in to kiss her but as he did she yawned loudly and quickly clasped her hand over her mouth.

"Sorry," she said. "I...I'm really tired."

"So you're not in the mood?" Sherlock raised a suggestive brow and she yawned again and pushed him off her and he lay on his side, looking at her as she snuggled up against his side.

"Not when John is out there and I'm shattered," she said.

"Ah," Sherlock said. "You're worried John will hear you shouting my name and then you would embarrass yourself becuase of it."

"Don't flatter yourself Mr Holmes," Scarlett said and climbed under the duvet whilst Sherlock rested on top of the duvet and allowed her to rest her head on his chest.

"I was being honest," Sherlock replied.

"Goodnight Sherlock," Scarlett said.

"Goodnight Scarlett."


	3. Chapter 3

"Sherlock," Scarlett grunted in the middle of the night, her arm flying out to the side, searching for him lying next to her as she awoke from the nightmare she had currently been in. "Sherlock?" she tried again and looked to the empty side and sighed loudly as she did so. He had gone.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Scarlett grunted, sitting up and reaching for the beside lamp and switching it on. Light illuminated the room and there was still no sign of him. Scarlett climbed from the bed and shivered in the cold as she reached for Sherlock's blazer which was on the end of the bed and she shrugged into it. The smell of him was intoxicating but she couldn't get enough of it. She never would be able to. Padding out of the bedroom, she walked into the kitchen where the floor was cold to her feet and she quickly walked into the living room to see him on the sofa.

"If you must persist standing there and watching me then you may drive me mad," Sherlock told her, moving another nicotine patch onto his arm as he did so. Scarlett sat on the edge of the coffee table and her eyes went wide at the sight of his arm.

"You have five patches on your arm!" she stated quickly and Sherlock opened his eyes and looked over at her.

"Very observant considering you are clearly incoherent," Sherlock told her. "I'm thinking."

"I can tell," Scarlett whispered and took his arm into her hand and began to turn it in her grasp.

"Do you mind?" he asked her, closing his eyes but allowing her to hold onto his arm.

"How can you handle it?" she asked.

"Highly functioning sociopath Scarlett," Sherlock reminded her. "We're a very in depth breed."

"Why are you even awake?" she asked him. "It's three in the morning."

"It's actually ten minutes past three," Sherlock replied. "And why are you awake?"

"I had a dream..." Scarlett replied in a whisper.

"You mean a nightmare?" Sherlock responded.

"I suppose so," she shrugged." But it's not real so it doesn't matter."

"Hmm," Sherlock agreed with her in a murmur.

"So why are you awake?"

"I'm thinking," Sherlock whispered.

"About?"

"Everything," Sherlock replied. "I don't wish to speak of it. I need time alone."

"You can't do that Sherlock," Scarlett sighed. "Bottle things up..."

"Sometimes it is for the best," Sherlock informed her. "Go back to bed...you have work in the morning and then you need to start to search for another job considering your firm is packing up shop."

"And you don't plan to tell me what is going on?" Scarlett checked.

"No." He was firm.

...

"You do know that I begrudge even speaking with you considering your little girlfriend knocked me out stone cold and held me at gunpoint," Mycroft drawled as he stood with Sherlock in the cold January air of London. The two of them began to walk down the busy streets of London together, looking anywhere but each other's eyes.

"You do know you should be lucky that I am speaking with you considering you told my girlfriend that her child was lucky to have died." Sherlock informed him.

"Her child?" Mycroft raised his brows. "You mean our child?"

"No," Sherlock replied curtly. "I mean Rose."

"You named your child?"

"She deserved to be named Mycroft," Sherlock spoke quickly. "Now why am I here? If you have some case in Norway for me to solve then I hate to tell you that I am very busy helping Lestrade out on cases."

"You finished your case with Lestrade earlier last night," Mycroft pulled a leather glove onto his hand. "And I have two issues which I need to speak with you of."

"Do tell," Sherlock drawled.

"I need you to track down Irene Adler," Mycroft simply said and Sherlock stood still and looked over at his brother. "She went rogue on us and we have no idea as to where she has gone."

"Are you admitting that you can't do something Mycroft?" Sherlock sounded slightly amused.

"She's good Sherlock," Mycroft nodded. "And this is of national importance. The government can hardly spend time looking for a woman who has gone missing...we are busy people."

"I am sure you are," sarcasm was filled in Sherlock's voice as the consulting detective simply just began to walk once again and looked onto the people who passed him by, deducing many things about their lives. "And why do you think I would be interested as to where Miss Adler is?"

"Because you and I both know that you can't resist a case. Especially a good one," Mycroft informed Sherlock.

"And what is the other issue which you speak of?" Sherlock asked and Mycroft smirked devilishly as he looked ahead and not at his brother.

"Mummy didn't know you were involved with a girl Sherlock," Mycroft drawled and Sherlock simply just rolled his eyes as he heard his brother speak.

"Well I always did upset mother, didn't I?" Sherlock replied venomously. "And why did you feel the need to inform her?"

"Because you and Scarlett are serious. Are you not?" Mycroft replied. "I mean you were going to have a family..."

"We were going to have a child. There is a difference," Sherlock responded blandly. "And did you tell her of that?"

"No," Mycroft shook his head. "Your mistakes would only make her more ill than she already is."

"And I imagine that mother now wants to meet Scarlett. Am I correct?" Sherlock asked and Mycroft chuckled lightly to himself.

"She's intrigued as to how she has managed to win you over," Mycroft confirmed. "But when I told her she was nothing but a boring little secretary with an overpriced selection of clothes then mother simply did not seem as interested."

"You can tell mother that Scarlett and I are happy and I am not in need of her approval of Scarlett," Sherlock snapped curtly.

"Because you know she wouldn't give her approval?" Mycroft checked.

"Mother wouldn't give her approval to anyone Mycroft. We both know that."

...

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked Scarlett when he walked back into 221B Baker Street and saw her sat at the kitchen table, a highlighter lid in her mouth as she hovered intently over a newspaper, circling things as she went. Sherlock looked over her shoulder and simply just shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Looking for another job already?" he checked with her.

"Mm," she agreed and circled another one.

"You know that you don't necessarily need to take a job?" Sherlock asked her and she spat the highlighter lid out and looked up at him.

"What do you suggest I do then?" she pondered aloud. "We need food, clothes, rent money, electric money, gas money, toiletries; cleaning things, TV license...need I go on?"

"No," Sherlock drawled. "You made your point."

"Good to know," Scarlett nodded. "You may be able to go out and come home when you please without a care in the world but some of us have responsibilities Sherlock."

"Scarlett," Sherlock said as she stood up and he placed his hands onto her shoulders and looked at her for the first time, noticing her eyes were red and puffy and she sniffed. "What's gotten you into this state?"

"I...I just don't know what to do..." she sobbed. "She said...there is someone out there...bigger than Moriarty...who wants you dead...and I don't know whether to believe her or not..."

"Scarlett," Sherlock spoke her name calmly and bent down to her height. "Who was she?"

"It was Irene...Adler...she met me on the way back from work...and told me...that it won't stop..."

"What won't stop?"

"The risking of our lives...danger..."

"It's going to be alright Scarlett," Sherlock promised her.

"Is it?"

"Of course," Sherlock replied and carefully drew her into his arms and tucked her head under his chin.

"Did Miss Adler mention who is supposedly better than Moriarty?"

"No," Scarlett sniffed. "Just that he is."

"Okay then," Sherlock simply nodded and began his silent thought process.

"How can you be so calm?" Scarlett asked him and pulled away slightly.

"Because there is no use worrying about something which we know nothing about yet. Although I do have nine possible opportunities," Sherlock informed her.

"How?" she wondered.

"My mind never stops working Scarlett," Sherlock grinned lightly. "Now just try and remain calm. Okay?"

"Easy for you to say."

"Clearly as I just said it."

...

A/N: Thank you to eruptingearth for reviewing! Glad you like it! And thank you to everyone who has story alerted this story and favourited it!


	4. Chapter 4

"From the beginning Scarlett," Sherlock urged her as they sat on his sofa, him on the edge of it, his hands clasped together as one of his fingers rested on his lips and he closed his eyes, waiting for her to retell him the story of how she came across Irene Adler on her way home from work.

"I was just walking home…I had my phone and was texting to arrange Mr High's final meeting for tomorrow when she jumped up on me and began walking to the side and she would not shut up about how someone was still after you. Someone who is bigger than Moriarty and more deadly…and then she said…" Scarlett trailed off and Sherlock simply pinched the bridge of his nose, guessing what the spiteful woman had said to her but needing to hear it from her own lips.

"You started a sentence and so you may as well finish it off," he told her and she looked onto her entwined hands with a large amount of nervousness going through her posture.

"She said that you would get bored of me," Scarlett replied. "That you don't really love me and I'm just a distraction until a new shiny toy comes along."

"Ah," Sherlock simply replied and Scarlett's eyes went wide as she jumped up from the sofa and walked around the coffee table before placing her hands onto her hips and looking down at Sherlock.

"All you have to say is 'ah'?" she snapped.

"No need to get yourself all worked up Scarlett," Sherlock told her. "I can tell you are after me to reassure you that what she said was nothing but a lie."

"It would be nice Sherlock," Scarlett replied. "I mean…do I have to worry? You haven't said that you love me so maybe there is a part of her which is right…"

"I don't need to say it. Words are often meaningless," Sherlock replied. "It is actions which people tend to remember."

"But I don't know how you feel Sherlock…" Scarlett began to blabber. "I mean you never open up unless it is to manipulate people to get your own way and so is it any wonder that I worry? You have a brain which needs to be entertained all the time and I don't know if I can do that because I am not as smart as you and I am nowhere near as interesting as you so-"

And then she was cut off as Sherlock had hastily stood up and kissed her quickly to stop her blathering. His lips moulded to hers and he rested a hand into her blonde hair to keep her locked against him as her body suddenly shuddered and he smirked into the kiss. Suddenly, he felt his weight fall on top of hers onto the sofa and she pulled away for breath.

"Did I not tell you that actions speak louder than words?" he murmured into her ear.

"Well…I suppose…that you're possibly correct…"

"I'm always correct," Sherlock smirked cockily. "Now will you please calm down with your idiotic panicking because I assure you that Miss Adler is incorrect."

"Promise?" she made him swear on it.

"You really are insecure. Aren't you?" Sherlock found it slightly amusing that she was worried he would leave her. He had never felt needed in that certain way.

"Is it any wonder?" Scarlett snorted.

"I don't know why you're so worried," Sherlock rolled to the side of her on the small sofa and propped his body up by his elbow, resting his head onto his hand and his other arm draped over Scarlett's waist and she laid flat beside him.

"Well you wouldn't because you're…well…you," Scarlett replied simply. "What happens if one day you find a girl who is more like you and you consider her equal?"

"Then I tell her that I am not interested because I have a very good looking young woman at home who loves me dearly and I don't have the heart to hurt her," Sherlock said as if it were simple. "And for me to admit that I have a heart is something of an intriguing issue."

"But would you want her?" Scarlett asked him.

"I have yet to meet her so I cannot answer that truthfully," Sherlock mused. "But no. I don't think I would want her. You may not think it, but I am lucky to have you."

"You reckon?"

"I don't reckon things Scarlett. I know things."

"So you're sure I have no reason to worry?"

"There are plenty of reasons to worry," Sherlock replied. "Losing your job is one reason…and now this random threat from Miss Adler…but no reason to worry about me finding someone else. I don't have the time."

"So what do we do? Do we listen to Adler or do we ignore her?"

"I think we would be foolish to ignore her," Sherlock said honestly. "There are always threats out there but I have not heard of one bigger than Moriarty. I did not think it would be possible to be truthful with you."

"What do you think he would be after?"

"I am unsure," Sherlock responded and felt Scarlett grab his draping hand over her waist.

"You annoyed anyone recently?" Scarlett asked with a slight smirk on her face and Sherlock couldn't help but grin back at her.

"I think you already know the answer to that question," Sherlock grinned.

"But if Adler is working for them then that has to mean we need to get her to speak…we need more information," Scarlett concluded.

"I agree," Sherlock murmured. "Slightly coincidental that my brother shows up and asks me to find her just as she resurfaces."

"Mycroft?" Scarlett gasped slightly.

"He is the only brother I have," Sherlock nodded. "He knows she is a dangerous woman…obviously he must know she is working for someone else now and he needs her found. She knows things about the government which could ruin my brother. If she passes that information on then Mycroft is in deep trouble."

"Is he still annoyed I knocked him out?" Scarlett frowned and Sherlock looked at her with a raised brow.

"So I tell you that someone knows deep dark secrets about the government," he said lowly, "and you worry that he will be peeved off that you attacked him?"

"I'm not worried…just…intrigued," Scarlett said simply.

"Well in answer to your question, yes, he is annoyed still," Sherlock replied. "Now the main thing which I have to do is find Miss Adler. Find out who she is working for and what she wants."

…..

"Sherlock," John nudged his friend on the elbow when he walked back into the flat and found him on the sofa with Scarlett tucked under his chin and the two of them were sleeping. Sherlock awoke easily and looked over at John.

"Hmm?" he asked and John simply just frowned.

"I've been trying to phone you," John replied. "Lestrade wants you."

"Does he have a case?" Sherlock blinked and opened his eyes wide as he checked the time on his watch.

"No…Sherlock…"

"Mm," Scarlett suddenly spoke and pressed herself further into Sherlock's body as she settled down again.

"What is it?" Sherlock whispered and John simply shook his head.

"Maybe you should take Scarlett to bed?" John suggested. "She may get neck ache lying like she is doing."

Sherlock picked up on the hint and carefully moved his body over Scarlett's before picking her up gently into his arms and walking off into the bedroom.

"Sherlock," she yawned. "Where are we off?"

"I'm taking you to bed."

"I'm too tired Sherlock," she yawned. "Another night."

"To sleep Scarlett," Sherlock smirked as he kicked his door open and deposited her onto the mattress. "I'll be back soon."

Sherlock slowly closed the door and walked back down the hallway, shutting the door to the hallway and then the one to the kitchen as John sat in the armchair and looked over at his friend who settled himself onto the armchair opposite.

"Now what is so important I had to obey your orders?"

"Lestrade has been phoning you all night," John informed his friend.

"My battery is dead," Sherlock replied.

"Of course," John replied.

"So go on," Sherlock urged John. "The suspense is becoming too much."

"I…I don't know how to say this to you…but…your…well Rose's…her grave…someone…Sherlock, someone has dug it up."

"What?" Sherlock replied, his voice curt as he narrowed his eyes to look into John's.

"The coffin had been dug up today and was reported earlier," John said.

"And where is she now?" Sherlock asked.

"They buried her again," John said. "Nothing was wrong…it was just sick."

"Clearly," Sherlock agreed.

"Why would someone do this?"

"Someone is trying to get at me…this is just a warning."

"Who is trying to get to you now?"

"I don't know," Sherlock replied honestly. "But Miss Adler does."

….

"How could someone do that?" Scarlett sobbed but managed to snap as her and Sherlock stood at the graveside. It was evening time the next day and the sky was dark and lit up with stars as Sherlock rested the small bouquet of flowers onto his dead daughter's grave and then held onto Scarlett around her waist as he looked to the side and noted a figure in the darkness, hiding behind a tree.

"Scarlett," Sherlock whispered into her ear, "someone is watching us."

"What?" she spoke quickly. "Where?"

"Keep your voice down," Sherlock hissed. "We're going to walk out of here calmly…just stay with me."

"Got it," Scarlett nodded and took hold of his hand and they began to walk down the dark gravesides until they suddenly heard a loud bang.

"Should we run?" Scarlett began to panic as the sound of a gun went off once again and then she felt herself tugging on a dead weight. She turned around; her hand still in Sherlock's as she saw the man stood still, his pale face paler than normal.

"Sherlock?" she asked him and then she saw the blood.

"Go Scarlett," Sherlock pushed her from him. "Go and get away from here."

"You're bleeding…Sherlock…" she said and Sherlock couldn't support his weight anymore as the man who had shot him walked towards the couple and Scarlett looked up at him as she dropped to her knees beside Sherlock and he aimed fire at the consulting detective's head.

"No…" she pleaded. "You can't hurt him…don't…"

"Oh don't worry," his voice was deep. "This is just the beginning."

And with that he left the two of them, Sherlock glaring after him as Scarlett shrugged her coat from her shoulders and folded it into a ball.

"Go after him…stop him…" Sherlock told her and she shook her head.

"He's got a gun…and you're bleeding after being shot…I don't think so."

"Scarlett-" Sherlock began sternly but she cut him off.

"No," She snapped. "I'm not leaving you."

Scarlett hastily pulled her phone from her jeans pocket and typed in nine nine nine before asking for an ambulance and then moving her body in the snow and resting Sherlock's head in her lap as she moved his hair from his face and held her blue military coat onto the bleeding.

"Do you have to press it down so hard?" Sherlock asked her and she rolled her eyes.

"Yes," she replied. "Now stop complaining."

"You know," Sherlock said. "It is quite ironic."

"What is?"

"Death in a graveyard," Sherlock said.

"You're not going to die," Scarlett replied hastily.

"I don't think I will," Sherlock agreed."He had a good aim…he didn't aim for any organs…he wants to scare me."

"Well he managed to scare me," Scarlett said quickly.

"Not a difficult thing to do," Sherlock replied.

…

"Is he okay?" John asked as he and Sarah rushed to the hospital, cutting their date short.

"He should be fine," Scarlett replied. "They just operated on him and managed to stop the bleeding and get the bullet out. Apparently he was lucky."

"Thank God," John said and sat down in a seat in the corridor. "Where is he now?"

"They're waiting for him to wake up from the anaesthetic," Scarlett yawned and looked to the side where she saw a familiar figure sat in the corridor and she looked over at it whilst Sarah comforted John over the fright he had just been having.

"I'll be back in a minute…I need some air…" Scarlett said.

"Want me to come with you?" John asked and she shook her head at him.

"I need to be alone," she said and began to walk down the corridor in her still wet at the knee jeans and simple white shirt as she heard the woman who was sat in the seat stand up and begin to follow her until she was in the elevator and the two women came face to face.

"He's a very lucky boy," she told Scarlett as the lift began to move. "Of course he was never supposed to die…just be warned."

"Who is doing this?" Scarlett snapped at Irene.

"Time will tell," she assured her. "Keep an eye on Sherlock though…he might not be seen walking into 221B Baker Street one day."

"What do you know?" Scarlett said as the elevator stopped and Irene walked out.

"I know a lot Scarlett Rose Jenson," Irene told her. "I know things which could ruin you and Sherlock."

"Where do you think you're going?" Scarlett snapped, following her from the elevator and grabbing her arm, turning her to face her as people looked on at them.

"I have business I need to do," Irene said. "Shouldn't you be with Sherlock when he wakes up?"

"Who is doing this Irene?" Scarlett tried again and Irene snapped her arm from Scarlett grasp and looked over at her.

"Why don't you ask Sherlock's dear brother?"

…..

Thank you to all the people who have put this on story alert and favourite story! There were a lot last night! And thank you to Arreis for reviewing! Glad you liked my prequel and do keep reviewing and thanks for reading! Anyway, please do review and let me know what you think so far!


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey," Scarlett said softly when she walked into Sherlock's room in the hospital and looked over the consulting detective who was sat up in the bed, a blue hospital gown clinging to his body, his black hair completely distorted around his face as Scarlett simply smiled at him and he looked back at her.

"Where have you been?" Sherlock asked her. "I have been awake for ten minutes and so far I have seen John and Sarah but not you. Now, with you being so madly in love with me, I expected you would be the first one I saw. But I had to make do with John and he is not pleasing on the eye."

"I needed some air," Scarlett simply shrugged. "They told me you were going to be alright and I just needed some fresh air..."

"And you met Miss Adler. Did you not?" Sherlock asked her and Scarlett's mouth hung open as she pushed her blonde curls from her face and sat down on the edge of his bed and looked over at him.

"How did you possibly know that?" she was slightly astonished he could read her after coming around from an anaesthetic.

"It was written all over your face. You also smell of a different scent. Not your own Dior perfume but something else. Considering I have been with Sarah and her annoying tendency to talk too much then I know it wasn't her you have been with. And the only other person you would hang around with for more than two minutes would be Miss Adler to get answers to questions which you are in need of."

"Insightful," Scarlett nodded.

"Agreed," Sherlock stated. "Now what did she say to you?"

"Not a lot," Scarlett lied to Sherlock and he raised a brow at her.

"Really?"

"Hmm," she managed to worm out a slight sentence and Sherlock simply just sighed and closed his eyes.

"Just spit it out," he demanded her. "I know she said something but you don't want to risk telling me because you're worried about my response. I have several possibilities going through my head but each of them are different."

"She said that if you want to know who wants you dead then we should ask your brother," Scarlett blurted out and raised her hands into the air as Sherlock's brows seemed to furrow together in hard concentration.

"My brother?" he raised a brow. "What would Mycroft have to do with this?"

"That's exactly what I thought," Scarlett agreed. "But she said he knows...he wouldn't try to...well...you know..."

"Kill me?" Sherlock arched a brow and Scarlett simply just remained silent. "I don't think so. We may not like each other but death is slightly too far Scarlett. Even for an eccentric like him."

"I thought that too," Scarlett nodded quickly. "But we need to speak to Mycroft."

"We?" Sherlock quizzed her. "I didn't think the danger thing was your scene?"

"It's not," Scarlett frowned. "But I don't intend to be kept in the dark. Especially when this involves you being tormented and a cat and mouse game is going on."

"I imagine I get to be the mouse," Sherlock managed to speak and Scarlett chuckled lightly before pressing her hand to his cheek and kissing him on the forehead, a silent tear escaping her eyes.

"I thought I'd lost you..." Scarlett said.

"I'm like a bad penny. I always show up."

...

"I want to speak with Mycroft Holmes," Sherlock demanded as his BlackBerry was fastened to his ear and Scarlett wheeled him out of this hospital after much complaining on his part. And then Scarlett reminded him that he had done the same when she was in the hospital and he simply sulked like a little child.

"Where has he gone?" Sherlock asked. "And he will be out of contact for the entire journey."

"And you expect me to believe your lies from your extremely high pitched tone?" Sherlock asked the woman and then hung up as Scarlett opened the door for the cab.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"My brother has gone away to Germany apparently. On business, but he will not be able to respond to my calls," Sherlock frowned and Scarlett placed the wheelchair back into the doors with the others before climbing into the cab herself.

"And it was a lie?" she asked.

"Baker Street," Sherlock told the driver and then looked at her. "And he is in Germany. But he's not out of contact...clearly he is trying to hide something from us...but why?"

"Because he's creepy?" Scarlett asked then shook her head. "Sorry, sorry, sorry...I know, he's your brother."

"It's fine," Sherlock assured her. "You're not offending me."

"But I'm offending your brother."

"Like I said. I don't care," Sherlock shrugged. "But why would he be out of the country? And what does he know about this man? More importantly, who is this man who wants me dead and why does he? And where is Miss Adler in all of this?"

"Miss Adler is just a venomous cow," Scarlett hissed and looked out the window.

"She really does rile you. Doesn't she?"

"Can't imagine why," Scarlett said sarcastically.

...

"Where do you think you're going?" Scarlett shrieked as she saw Sherlock enter the kitchen, shrugging his blazer onto his arms which were dressed in his long purple shirt as Scarlett stirred the soup on the hob at seven in the evening.

"Out," Sherlock replied and winced a little at the pain. "I need to find Mycroft."

"You need to rest," Scarlett contradicted him. "Did you not hear the doctor?"

"Just because I heard him doesn't mean I have to listen to him," Sherlock responded and Scarlett scowled and she took the soup off heat and moved over to Sherlock, removing his jacket from his arms and- with him being too weak to do anything- he complied.

"Since when did you turn into Mary Nightingale?" he asked sarcastically as she hooked an arm around his waist and began to steer him back into the bedroom.

"I didn't. I'm looking out for you and you need bed rest for a couple of days...just...don't be an arse and comply with me?"

"Can't make any promises," Sherlock said. "And you can't keep watch on me twenty four seven."

"You're forgetting I am unemployed as of today," Scarlett said. "So you will find that I can. Now sit down and I'll bring you some soup."

"God," Sherlock complained and rolled his eyes. "Soup."

"It's all we have in!" she called back. "Considering you do no shopping."

"I've just been shot!" Sherlock yelled back to her.

"You were not shot the other day when I asked you!"

"But I was busy!"

"Of course you were," Scarlett murmured and poured the soup into a large mug and took it into Sherlock before sitting cross legged at the bottom of the bed in her joggers and vest top and she pulled her hair into a pony tail.

"And Mycroft is in Germany," she pointed out.

"He's back this evening," Sherlock replied. "I saw him on that awful programme you made me watch."

"The news?" Scarlett checked.

"Yes. That so called interesting topical thing," Sherlock shook off.

"Wait until you discover Emmerdale," she winked.

"My excitement is overwhelming," sarcasm took hold of his voice and he took a sip of his drink.

"If I go for a shower will you promise to stay here?" she asked and he grinned devilishly at her.

"What would happen if I said no," he teased and she shook her head and smiled as she stood up.

"Not tonight Sherlock," she replied. "We don't want you to get too worked up."

"As you keep telling me," he drawled. "Enjoy your solo shower then."

"Stay here Sherlock," she warned him, looking at him as she stood in the doorway and narrowed her eyes at him.

"I'm not a dog," he replied.

"I shall take that to mean that you will stay so in that case...good boy," and then she left for the bathroom.

...

"It took ages for the water to warm up," Scarlett said as she walked into the bedroom. "I don't think I had it on hot enough though."

She looked onto the bed for the object of her conversation and she quickly reached for her phone when realising that Sherlock Holmes was not one to take orders.


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock was in pain. There was no denying it. But he continued walking along the long row of London town houses until he stopped at number at seventy three and rang the doorbell, waiting for an answer. As he stood on the step, he felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket and he didn't even have to take a look at the caller to know who was trying to get hold of him. And he knew that when she did get hold of him it would be by around his neck as she throttled him for leaving her. But Scarlett Jenson was the least of his concerns as he saw his brother appear at the front door and raised a simple brow in the direction of his younger sibling.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he requested and Sherlock simply just pulled his head back and his eyes widened in disbelief as he mocked a look of hurt on his features.

"Can one brother not simply come and visit the other?" he asked and Mycroft chuckled lightly.

"Yes. But when it concerns you and I Sherlock we both know that sibling love is not something we share," Mycroft informed his little brother. "Especially when you persist in going on with that little secretary."

"She is called Scarlett," Sherlock drawled. "And she has been speaking with your little rogue agent."

"Miss Adler?" Mycroft asked. "Why on earth would she talk to Miss Jenson?"

"I don't know," Sherlock replied, looking in the hallway of Mycroft's home before narrowing his eyes into his brothers. "Why would Miss Adler tell Scarlett to talk to you?"

"Why would Miss Adler do a lot of things?" Mycroft responded and Sherlock simply just leant against the wall of his brother's hall and looked him in the eye, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he did so.

"I'm not in the mood for your boring and idle questions Mycroft," Sherlock spat out. "Why would Miss Adler tell us that you know something about the shooting?"

"Shooting?" Mycroft sounded slightly shocked. "I wondered if I had heard right when my secretary called...apparently I did. Terrible," he shook his head and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"What do you know about the person who Miss Adler is working for Mycroft? It seems he has it in his head that he wants to kill me and I have no idea what I have done to upset him," Sherlock responded.

"You upset many people Sherlock. Tell me, can your genius mind not work out who wants you dead by using that list?"

"No," Sherlock replied quickly. "My extremely highly functioning brain will not tell me who wants me dead. It also won't give me a simple reason as to why my brother may know who wants me dead."

"Think about it Sherlock," Mycroft hissed. "Who has Miss Adler previously worked for?"

"I don't have her CV on me at the moment."

"Moriarty," Mycroft said simply.

"And he happens to be dead. Does he not?" Sherlock replied. "I'd say it impossible for him to return from the grave twice, wouldn't you?"

"You know Sherlock," Mycroft responded. "There are some people who believe the word 'brother' to mean something."

Sherlock remained still for a moment and then ran a hand through his dark curly hair and shook his head.

"He has a brother?"

"Yes," Moriarty drawled.

"So how do you know of this?" Sherlock asked and then clicked his fingers and didn't give him time to answer as he spoke quickly again; "Of course, you're the British Government. You know where every mastermind's family is."

"He has been under the watch for some time," Mycroft nodded. "He was Miss Adler's next assignment...but...well...she didn't see it that way."

"And what is he known for? Clearly he is not as big as his brother was," Sherlock replied.

"George Moriarty is trying to follow in his brother's footsteps. Unlike our relationship," Mycroft replied.

"Being the government holds no interest for me," Sherlock said as fast as he could. "So he is trying to be a consulting criminal."

"Apparently so," Mycroft said lowly. "Although no one can know of this Sherlock. Mr Moriarty is seeking you out for revenge for his brother. Little does he know that you're not the one who killed him."

"Miss Adler informed you of what Scarlett did then?" Sherlock checked and Mycroft nodded.

"And why did you not tell me of Moriarty Junior earlier?" Sherlock continued to quiz his brother who shrugged.

"It was not of your importance to know. I'm trying to keep you out of government business...you're reckless habits are becoming quite a nuisance," Mycroft replied.

"And yet you want me to find Miss Adler..." Sherlock said and then something ticked in his mind. "Of course! If Miss Adler is watching me for Moriarty then you know I shall be in contact with her and so if I manage to find her then you can get her to tell you where Moriarty is and so that would mean bringing down two criminals and stopping Miss Adler from speaking poorly of the government. Very sly Mycroft."

"I suppose we share some traits."

...

"Do you expect me not to yell at you?" Scarlett asked calmly when Sherlock re-entered 221B Baker Street later at night and just looked at her. She was sat in the armchair watching the TV in her large and oversized pyjamas whilst Sherlock winced and moved out his coat.

"My expectation is that you will yell regardless of the fact that there is no need to do so."

"No need?" she spat and jumped from the chair. "You've been shot less than seventy hours ago and have been told to rest and then you go and run off and leave me worrying after you!"

"You didn't look too worried," he pointed out.

"That's because I knew where you were going...and John followed you."

"So you've got him spying on me now, have you?" Sherlock asked and Scarlett rolled her eyes.

"He was taking Sarah out and I asked him detour past your brother's house where he saw you. I knew that by the time I got there then you would have dealt with him," Scarlett replied.

"There is also the fact that I have managed to solve the reason as to why Miss Adler told us to talk to him," Sherlock told her.

"Go on," she urged.

"Moriarty is back."

...

"I didn't see that one coming," Scarlett admitted once Sherlock had told her the full story. "A brother...this is madness..."

"Well brothers are common Scarlett. Not a sign of madness," he informed her.

"You know what I mean."

"Many don't. But that's good...I know who is out for me..."

"I don't think it makes the situation any better," Scarlett replied dryly and she sneezed loudly before coughing, earning a look of annoyance from Sherlock.

"I think I'm coming down with a cold," she said.

"Well don't pass it on to me," he told her and she grabbed another tissue from her pocket.

"I shall try not to," she replied. "So...do you have a plan?"

"No," Sherlock replied. "Not really...but I shall do soon. Worry not. And it's beautiful, isn't it?"

"What?" Scarlett asked as they sat on a make shift wooden box in the dark night on top of 221B Baker Street, huddled together, wanting fresh air. Sherlock wrapped his coat tighter around his body as Scarlett nestled her head onto his shoulder and he went tense for a moment before relaxing around her. She had placed on her thick wooly cardigan over her pyjamas and her large fluffy slippers were on her feet.

"The stars...they're really something. Don't you think?"

"Of course," Scarlett agreed. "It's odd though. To know that they are so far away in time and one of them may have died but we can still see it."

"I didn't know you were the expert on the solar system," Sherlock informed her and she locked her arm into his as he took both her hands into his leather clad ones and rested his chin on her head.

"Well you're obviously not," she joked and he nudged her gently and she giggled.

"I read up about it as soon as John mocked me," he told her. "I didn't like the idea of being mocked for not knowing such trivial knowledge."

"No," she whispered. "I know you don't."

"And Moriarty...the second one...I'll manage to find out how to stop him."

"I know," Scarlett said and kissed him on the cheek. "You're Sherlock Holmes."

"And I'd like you to keep contact to a minimal amount...I don't want your germs from your mouth."

...

Thank you to Che and CaptainCrash for reviewing! Glad to hear from you both again! Please review and let me know what you think! Another update soon because it is almost the weekend which means some free time!


	7. Chapter 7

"So just to clarify," Sherlock began, "I was the one shot four days ago and yet you're the one laid on the sofa, rolling around and looking like death warmed up."

"Charming," Scarlett grunted and pulled her large duvet over her head, ignoring Sherlock. "I'm ill."

"Obviously," Sherlock replied and she suddenly bolted up straight and began to cough loudly as Sherlock recoiled at the noise of her barking and looked over at John who had a brow raised as he read the newspaper he had bought on the Sunday morning.

"Isn't there anything you can give her to stop this?" Sherlock demanded from his friend. "I don't particularly fancy putting up with the sound of her consistent howling for another few days."

"I'm the one with the cold," Scarlett informed him. "Not you."

"But you are giving me a headache," Sherlock said and flounced down into the chair and rubbed his temple. "And I am not in need of one of those whilst I am trying to find out who wants to kill me."

"It's best to get rid of a common cold," John informed his friend. "The fewer antibiotics she takes then the better. There really is nothing apart from cough medicine to stem the cough."

"And swallowing a whole bottle is not advised, is it?" Sherlock asked with a light twinkle in his eyes as Scarlett simply just rolled her eyes and rested her head on the arm of the sofa and sniffed loudly causing a groan from Sherlock.

"Blow your nose!" he demanded.

"Tissues?" she asked and Sherlock looked around the flat for them. "There are no tissues. I asked you the other week to go and fetch some when I left you a shopping list which I found still on the worktop when I came home."

"Busy!" Sherlock defended himself and John went into his coat pocket and found a small packet of tissues and handed them to Scarlett.

"Thanks," she said.

"No problem," John said and looked at Sherlock.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked John and he shook his head.

"No."

"Good," Sherlock huffed and Scarlett coughed loudly again.

"Dear God," he leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling. "Can you not just go to bed and sleep it off?"

"I can't sleep," she said and rubbed her red nose. "And I've been in that bedroom for ages…I need a change of scenery."

"I could swear you just do this to annoy me," Sherlock replied and she snorted.

"Of course. I purposefully got a cold because I wanted to wind you up. That is my sole purpose in life."

"I often believe it is," Sherlock said and he jumped up from his seat and walked over to grab his coat.

"Where are you going?" she asked him. "Does it not bother you that Moriarty's brother is after you and could be watching your every move, just waiting to grab you and then kill you?"

"Can't say it does particularly bother me," Sherlock said in a drawl. "I need to get out or you will be the one sending me to my grave."

"Sherlock," she growled and turned her head to look at him. "You're being stupid. You know that?"

"No. I don't. I am anything but stupid. Don't wait up," he called and he took to the stairs and Scarlett looked pleadingly at John who simply just clasped his paper together and folded it up and rested it on the arm of the chair.

"I'm going," he sighed and stood up and placed his coat onto his arms.

"Thank you John," Scarlett said.

"No worries. I'll do my best to keep him out of trouble," he promised her.

…

"Please tell me she didn't send you to spy on me?" Sherlock pleaded with John as he sat in a café and sipped on his tea whilst John took a seat after ordering a cup of coffee.

"She didn't say anything," John said, which was technically the truth. "She does worry about you."

"Clearly," Sherlock replied. "And where did you think I was heading off to?"

"What do you mean?" John replied, nodding in appreciation as a cup of coffee was placed in front of him.

"Well when you walked in you looked a little taken back and so I am presuming you did not think I would come into a café. Where did you think I was going?"

"I just thought you would be going somewhere more dangerous…"

"Anywhere can be dangerous as long as it contains dangerous people," Sherlock told his friend. "And I just wanted to get out and think."

"And have you thought?" John asked Sherlock who simply looked at his watch.

"For the five minutes I have been alone," he confirmed. "But I am unsure as to what to do."

"That's a first," John murmured.

"Very witty this evening John," Sherlock said and laced his fingers together and rested them onto the table.

"Do you think-"

"Yes," Sherlock interrupted.

"Do you think that he will show himself?" John commented. "So far he has been like his brother and has sent people to do his dirty work."

"If he wants revenge then he will do it himself. People are sentimental like that," Sherlock waved it off.

"But…I'm not being…well…you didn't kill him. Did you?"

"No," Sherlock whispered. "And Miss Adler hasn't told him that Scarlett was the one to do it…although I am not sure why she hasn't."

…..

"I would have knocked but your key was easy to steal," a feminine voice echoed around 221B Baker Street and Scarlett jumped out of her skin and pushed her duvet off her body as she stood up and looked over at Irene Adler who was stood in a long black coat, black heels on her feet and her curly brown hair was pulled into a bun. She looked classy and elegant in comparison to Scarlett in her large cotton pyjamas, fluffy slippers and her hair messily pulled into a ponytail.

"I've been looking for my key everywhere," Scarlett murmured.

"I pick pocketed it when we were at the hospital," she shrugged. "Hope you don't mind."

"I do actually," Scarlett replied. "Why are you here?"

"My boss knows that you know who he is," Irene said. "And I've been sent to...well…fetch you to him."

"I thought it was Sherlock he was after?"

"It was," Irene said. "Because Sherlock was the one who originally killed Jim…but then I told him how his brother came back…and who the real culprit was and it seems he wants both of you dead."

"You could have told him ages ago," Scarlett said and watched as Irene dug into her pocket and pulled out a small pistol whilst Scarlett simply just sniffed loudly.

"I could have," she nodded. "But I didn't."

"Why not?" Scarlett asked as she backed towards the large wooden desk and rested her hands on the back of it as Irene paced up and down the room.

"Because I thought it would be fun for George to watch you suffer without Sherlock," she said menacingly. "But then I realised that any information I gave him would give me a larger pay cheque."

"You're really an evil cow," Scarlett told her.

"I know," she drawled. "Now come with me and I may consider not hurting you when you're so clearly ill."

"I don't think so," Scarlett said and Irene held the gun up at eye level as Scarlett grabbed a glass which was resting on the desk and she flung it at Irene before quickly darting across the living room and then up towards the sliding doors of the kitchen. As she moved to them, Irene blocked her way and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her hair in the ponytail, eliciting a yell from Scarlett as she moved her mouth to the younger woman's ear.

"You don't make things easy. Do you?" she asked her. "I have a back up downstairs waiting for my word to come and make my job easier."

"Go to hell," Scarlett replied and fought against her as she used her elbow to knock Irene back in the stomach. The brunette simply just coughed loudly as Scarlett fought for breath and sniffed again, running through the kitchen and to the hallway door, bumping into a burly man as she did so.

"I told you," Irene said, holding her gun by her side as the man began to drag her down the stairs and Irene followed, "that you shouldn't make my job harder than it needs to be."

"Get off me!" Scarlett yelled, clinging onto the banister as Irene moved to the door and the man managed to get Scarlett to move from the banister, screaming as she went.

As they moved closer to the door there was a sudden loud bang and before Scarlett knew it she was toppling backwards in the man's arms before she crashed to the floor and rolled from his hold, looking down onto him as he remained unconscious. Scarlett looked up to see Mrs Hudson stood in front of her with a large frying pan held in her hands.

"Mrs Hudson…" Scarlett said and stood up quickly as the old woman looked at the unconscious man and then at Irene Adler as she continued to hold her gun.

"What the hell is this?" Irene snapped. "Granny watch?"

"I think you should hold your tongue," Mrs Hudson snapped as her and Scarlett backed down the hallway, the large frying pan held in Mrs Hudson's hand as they drew closer to her flat.

"You're not going anywhere," Adler said. "I have a job to do."

"Well I don't like the look of your job," Mrs Hudson said and quickly backed into her flat and shut the door hastily as Scarlett watched the old woman and shots were suddenly fired. Scarlett grabbed onto Mrs Hudson's arm and dragged her from the door and round the corner where they heard Irene swear under her breath before giving up.

"I take it that this is Sherlock's doing?" Mrs Hudson raised a brow and Scarlett drew the old woman into a large hug.

"Thank you Mrs Hudson! Thank you so much!"

"Dear," Mrs Hudson patted her back, "I was hardly going to let her take you when it was clear you were not thrilled with the idea."

"You possibly just saved my life," Scarlett told her and kissed her on the cheek as she waved off her thankfulness.

"I have to say that hitting him with this," she motioned to the pan, "was quite riveting."

….

"Mrs Hudson!" Sherlock's voice boomed as he saw her enter his flat. He quickly strode over to her and placed his hands onto her cheeks and kissed her on her left one.

"What was that for?" she asked him.

"Scarlett told me the entire story," he said, sounding giddy as he did so. "And you've just had a glimpse into the world of a consulting detective."

"Well a glimpse was more than enough," Mrs Hudson placed a hand onto her hip and handed him a box. "I've brought these up…give them to Scarlett for her to use. Poor girl is full of cold."

"I am aware," Sherlock said lowly and Mrs Hudson took off as John shook his head.

"And she was worried something would happen to you if you left her," he murmured.

"Role reversal," Sherlock shrugged and placed the box onto the coffee table and watched as Scarlett moved out from the bathroom and back into the living room.

"What happened to your face?" Sherlock asked her and John continued to sweep up the broken glass as Sherlock rested a cold hand onto her cheek where a bruise was forming. She shrugged and winced as he prodded it.

"I think it is just a bruise," he assured her. "Are you okay?"

"Dandy," she replied sarcastically and Sherlock remained silent and she instantly felt bad as he simply looked confused at her. "Sorry…it's just that she shocked me…and we need to change the locks. She managed to get my key to the flat."

"Of course," Sherlock agreed and pulled her into his arms, pushing his hand into her blonde hair as she rested her cheek on his chest.

"Sherlock?" Scarlett asked him.

"Yes?"

"You're suffocating me," she said and began to cough loudly as Sherlock let her go and jumped back.

"Just keep your germs to yourself," he told her. "What use would I be with a cold?"

"About as much use as you are now?" John called out. "Not much."

"Keep your thoughts to yourself John," Sherlock told him and Scarlett slumped back onto the sofa and Sherlock took the box of Lemsip from the table and walked into the kitchen, looking at the instructions before wriggling his nose and placing the kettle on before brewing Scarlett the Lemsip and blinking several times at the smell of it.

"What is it?" Scarlett asked him

"For your cold," Sherlock said. "Suppose to help clear the sinuses apparently."

"Thanks," Scarlett said.

"And I'll fetch you a hot water bottle. You stay wrapped up…you're in shock and full of cold. Not a desirable combination."

And it was times like then when Scarlett could see how much he cared. It was the little details which Sherlock thought about.

….

Thank you to eruptingearth and Arreis for reviewing. Glad you like it still! Please do let me know what you think! I'm bringing in the little Moriarty soon!


	8. Chapter 8

"You need to eat Scarlett," Sherlock demanded of her as he placed the tray on the coffee table and the young woman just continued to lay there, her breathing short and quick as Sherlock simply sat on the edge of the coffee table and ran his hands quickly through his hair whilst Scarlett shook her head.

"I'm not hungry Sherlock," she complained. "I feel that if I eat the pasta then I am just going to throw it back up."

"But it's your favourite...cabonara..." he told her and she looked weakly over at him and smiled slightly.

"I know," she said. "And thank you for the thought."

"You're sweating like a pig," Sherlock observed but she remained under the thick blanket as she raised a brow at him and placed her hand to her forehead and felt the sweat.

"I don't feel warm," she stated.

"Well you certainly are," Sherlock rested his hand onto her forehead and then rolled his sleeves up before placing his hands onto his hips and looking down onto her.

"You're definitely not suffering from the flu Scarlett," he told her. "This has been going on for a few days."

"I'll be fine soon," she promised him and suddenly clasped onto her chest in pain and then began breathing quickly as Sherlock fetched a flannel for her to place onto her forehead. He sat on the edge of the sofa and rested the cold material onto her burning hot skin as she closed her eyes and whimpered at the freezing contact.

"I'm calling John," Sherlock decided and pulled his phone from his pocket.

"He's on a date with Sarah!" Scarlett objected. "He's been getting on really well with her for the last few days...he doesn't need to come...I'm fine!"

"You are anything but fine," Sherlock hissed. "Take a drink of this," he handed her the water which had been resting on the coffee table and she drank it before coughing into her tissue and this time she fetched blood up and Sherlock raised his brows and placed his phone to his ear.

"Now will you admit that you are seriously ill?"

...

"This may be cold," John said and pressed his stethoscope onto Scarlett's chest as he held it onto where her heart was beating. Sherlock was stood near the fireplace, one arm going across his midriff and his other hand resting onto his chin as he watched Scarlett try to breathe normally and John look intently at her chest as it quickly rose and then fell.

"And then I'm going to need to take your temperature," John said and began to use his thermometer and placed it into her mouth as he watched her body rise quickly.

"And do you think that you can walk over to the kitchen for me?" he asked and she began to stand up. John helped her from the sofa, his arm carefully steadying her around her waist as she then took off on her own, walking slowly, her body dropping as John shook his head at Sherlock. As she walked back, Sherlock saw her eyes roll back into her head and he rushed over to her, catching her under her arms as she began to fall to the floor.

"Scarlett!" he panicked and stood her up straight, resting her body against his, her head lolling from side to side.

"Hmm?" she asked.

"Scarlett...what just happened?" John asked.

"I don't know...I think I...well..."

"You blacked out," Sherlock clarified and gently picked her up and placed her back down onto the sofa.

"I think you have pneumonia," John concluded. "All the symptoms point to it."

"Pneumonia?" Scarlett checked. "How?"

"Well actually I think this is a complication of pneumonia to be honest," he said. "You have chest pains and an extremely high temperature which is over forty degrees. You also have a persistent cough and have begun coughing up blood."

"So I don't have pneumonia?" she asked and Sherlock looked over at John with raised brows. He was no doctor so he had no idea what was wrong with her. Although he had some idea as to what her illness was.

"I think you have pleurisy. The symptoms are similar to pneumonia but they are more severe."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means that I am going to have to prescribe you a hell of a lot of steroid tablets to reduce the pain in your chest considering non steroidal anti inflammatory drugs are working...and if that does not work than you will need to go into hospital...although I do worry about you now..."

"Why?" Scarlett asked.

"Because your symptoms are showing signs of being severe and you did black out which is not normal."

"To the hospital then," Sherlock concluded and reached for his coat as Scarlett shook her head.

"No," she said. "I want to try the tablets first."

"I want never gets," Sherlock informed her. "You're going to the hospital. Doctors orders."

"John said to try the tablets," Scarlett pointed out, too tired to raise her voice.

"And he also said he was worried which means we are going to the hospital. End of discussion."

...

"Mrs Holmes is it?" a nurse asked and Scarlett simply just widened her eyes as Sherlock awkwardly coughed.

"Miss Jenson," she replied and the nurse checked her clipboard and shook her head, a goofy smile on her lips as she scribbled something out.

"Of course," she said. "Mr Holmes here says you've not been feeling too well."

"Well no-" Scarlett began.

"She's been having pains in her chest as well as coughing up blood. Not to mention her high temperature and trouble breathing," Sherlock interrupted.

"Very protective this one isn't he?" the nurse smiled at Scarlett as she placed a hand onto her forehead.

"Cautious," Sherlock replied instead and the nurse simply just nodded.

...

"They've admitted me?" Scarlett asked Sherlock when he walked back into the room to tell her she was moving onto a ward.

"They want to monitor you for the next twenty four hours. Your symptoms are serious," he informed her.

"But I'm fine," she coughed and Sherlock handed her a tissue quickly, sitting on the side of the bed and patting her back before rubbing circles onto her gown covered skin.

"No you're not," he replied. "Now stop arguing with me Scarlett," he pleaded with her.

"I'm not...I just don't want to stay here," she replied.

"Obviously," he drawled.

"Isn't that your phone?" Scarlett suddenly asked and Sherlock began to root through his pockets until he pulled it out and saw an 'unknown number'.

"I don't know," Sherlock said and showed Scarlett the unknown number as she simply just grabbed onto his hand.

"Answer it," she told him. "We need to know."

"Hello?" Sherlock spoke carefully.

"Mr Holmes...how nice to speak with you finally. Things are much more interesting when they become personal. Don't you think?" a high pitched voice squeaked and Sherlock held tightly on Scarlett's hand as she listened in.

"Who is this?" Sherlock asked.

"I think you know the answer to that," the voice spoke.

"Well confirm my beliefs," Sherlock replied and he chuckled.

"George. George Moriarty."

...

Two chapters in one day?/


	9. Chapter 9

"I would say it is a pleasure to meet you," Sherlock spoke into the phone. "But I cannot tell a lie."

"I thought you would be the king of manipulation Sherlock," George croaked out. "My brother always commended you for that."

"Well I thank him for that then," Sherlock said. "Mind you, that is the only thing which I do thank him for."

"I don't think he ever thanked you for anything," George drawled lowly. "Especially not being the cause of his death."

"Everyone dies George," Sherlock whispered lowly, his voice sounding oddly threatening as he did so and Scarlett couldn't help but pick up on his tone.

"Not my brother!" he snapped. "You killed him Mr Holmes! You and that stupid bitch you've been screwing!"

"I would prefer for you to call her by her name if you would," Sherlock simply spoke. "And your brother's death would have been preventable if he had just left us alone."

"You were ruining his life," George replied. "I've been sat back watching Mr Holmes...I observed how my brother handled you...I observed how he failed to kill you...how he took his time and that caused his downfall. I have learnt by his mistakes."

"Have you really?" Sherlock replied. "And what do you plan to do differently?"

"Good try Mr Holmes," George chuckled. "But time shall tell."

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

"Luckily you don't have a say."

...

"Sherlock," Scarlett grunted a few moments later, her voice low and raspy and her body slumping in the bed. She was sweating profusely and her eyes were narrowed as if she were about to fall asleep at any given moment. "Where are you going?"

The consulting detective reached for his coat and shrugged into it, looking out of the room Scarlett was being kept in on the ward as he avoided her eye contact, not being able to tell her where he was going. She didn't really need to have to ask.

"I need to pop out," Sherlock spoke quietly, wrapping his purple scarf around his neck.

"No," Scarlett complained. "Sherlock...you can't go..."

"I have to Scarlett," Sherlock said. "He is out there waiting to kill you and I...I simply can't sit back and watch this happen in front of my eyes."

"So you're going to play straight into his hands?"

"This is a game Scarlett. And it is one that I am going to win."

"Don't go," she begged him and he managed to look at her. The vulnerability in her eyes was enough to make him realise how weak she was at that moment in time. How much she needed him.

"I'll be back soon," he promised her and walked over to the bed, holding onto her hand for a moment and bending to kiss her on the forehead. The warmth of her skin automatically made him recoil slightly but he kept his lips on her for a few moments, resting his hand onto the back of her blonde hair as she simply remained too weak and tired to anything.

"Please be careful," she allowed her hand to grab onto his lightly and he looked into her eyes and nodded.

"You get better," he told her. "I need you to come home soon."

"I'll try," she promised and with that Sherlock waltzed down the corridor, his BlackBerry in his hand as he demanded John's services.

...

"How are you feeling?" a feminine voice asked Scarlett as she sat up in bed, tubes sticking out of her body, providing her with much needed fluids.

"Terrible," Scarlett said and looked at the slightly older woman as she took a seat in the chair next to the bed.

"John asked me to come," Sarah explained her reasoning behind her stood at Scarlett's beside and the blonde nodded limply.

"Oh," Scarlett replied, a slightly awkward silence coming between them as Sarah clapped her hands together and rocked backwards and forwards on her chair.

"You don't-"

"So how is-"

The two women spoke at the same time and Sarah held her hand out flat;

"After you," she said.

"No." Scarlett shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"So how is life with Sherlock?" Sarah asked her, going ahead with her question.

"I'm never bored," Scarlett replied flatly.

"I can imagine not...is he always as brash?" she wondered. "It's just that when I speak with him I get the instant feeling that he hates me."

"Sherlock doesn't hate you," Scarlett shook her head. "He simply just doesn't get on with a lot of people."

"Then why are you so different?" Sarah asked and Scarlett blinked a few times and Sarah shook her head. "That came out wrong. I mean...why do you think he loves you...when he is incapable of liking anyone and having friends?"

"I don't know," Scarlett shrugged. "I don't even know why he puts up with me. When I first met him...he was brash...slightly arrogant...and yet he was charming...a real gentleman."

"Sherlock?" Sarah checked. "A gentleman?"

"Apparently John failed to believe it too," Scarlett smirked. "But he is...sometimes he is an arse, there is no denying it."

"That's true," Sarah nodded. "So where is he now? John said he was really worried about you but had to go off...hence why you're stuck with my company."

"Moriarty has a brother."

"Moriarty...that creep who tried to kill you, Sherlock and John?" she asked and Scarlett nodded.

"The same one. And now his brother wants revenge...Sherlock ran off after he called him. I don't know where he went and I don't know how he is...I'm worried about him like crazy."

"Do you want me to give John a ring?" Sarah asked, seeing Scarlett had wetness in the corner of her eyes.

"There's no point. He won't come...he's working."

...

"Sarah tried to phone me. Again," John informed Sherlock as his friend snatched his phone from him and pressed the reject call button and began about texting to his own number as the two of them sat in the back of a cab on the way back to 221B Baker Street after Sherlock had been to drop off a tip, connecting him with the Underground World and a series of networks which could coincide with Moriarty and hopefully give him some more information. All he had to do was wait for a text with a meeting place.

"She's incredibly dull John," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She'll do the predictable thing of being mad with you when you don't pick up and then you'll tell her it was my fault and so that will mean that she shall divert her anger onto me and leave you in the clear. No reason to be so worried."

"Thanks for that insight," John said and Sherlock jumped out the cab as it stopped at 221B and he looked back at John.

"I have no money on me," he simply said and with a little sigh, John pulled his wallet out his jacket pocket and paid for the fare as Sherlock unlocked the door and walked into the hallway, waiting as John shut the door and then he began.

"If we can find Miss Adler then I think we can find Moriarty," Sherlock informed him.

"Why is it necessary we find Miss Adler?"

"Because she is his right hand...well...woman...in all of this. She will know where he is and she is also wanted by the government," Sherlock began to take to the stairs and John followed him. "They do not take kindly to rogue agents."

"Apparently not," John said. "What do we do now?"

"I'm going to go and wait at the hospital for the text...Scarlett will be in need of something to entertain her other than your girlfriend's mindless talk."

Before John had a chance to say anything back Sherlock had moved off down the corridor and opened his bedroom door. He stepped into the room and as he did so he instantly turned red at the sight.

"I take it this is not yours?" a shrill voice asked him and Sherlock looked over to see a small woman with blonde curly hair which was in a neat perm. She wore a trouser suit in the colour of grey and a thin scarf covered her neck as her questioning grey eyes met Sherlock's. The thing which disturbed Sherlock the most was the fact that Scarlett's black lacy bra strap was hanging on the edge of her finger as she looked down at it.

"That is Scarlett's," Sherlock said and stormed deeper into the room, pulling his personal favourite off his mother's finger and then dumping it into her bedside drawer, making a mental note to burn it later.

"So she needs a push up?" the woman checked. "Was she not granted with decent assets?"

"Why are you here?" Sherlock snapped.

"Sherlock?" John called out, walking down the hallway, hearing his friend speaking with someone and fearing the worst. John stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Sherlock stood opposite a woman, the consulting detective glaring over at her.

"Dear God," the woman complained and looked at Sherlock. "Please tell me that you are not in a polyandrous relationship!"

"A what?" John wondered, not knowing what the meaning was in full.

"It means a relationship of three," Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"What?" John gasped and the woman simply just looked at Sherlock.

"So you're not gay?"

"Gay?" John was the one to ask and Sherlock looked over at him.

"Go away John!"

"What is this?"

"All she be explained later," Sherlock said and John had no choice but to turn on his heel and leave them to it.

"So you're still definitely going out with this Susanne?" the woman asked.

"Scarlett," Sherlock corrected her. "And yes."

"So where is she?" the woman asked.

"She is ill," Sherlock replied. "In hospital."

"Anything serious?" she didn't sound particularly concerned.

"She'll survive," Sherlock said. "How did you get in here?"

"Your brother knows a lot of people Sherlock," she told him. "And you were not answering my calls."

"I've been busy." He said through gritted teeth.

"Too busy for your own mother?" she arched a brow.

"Apparently."

...

Thank you to Arreis and RLD Flame-point Callie-co for reviewing! Let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

"I have to say that this is a mess Sherlock," Violet Holmes spoke as she looked around Sherlock's bedroom with a hand on her hip. Her gaze was looking around the room, taking in her sons discarded pyjamas and his girlfriends discarded heels and lingerie on the floor. The bed sheets were not made from the previous day and the room was starting to look messy.

"Does your girlfriend not clean up?" Mrs Holmes asked Sherlock who simply continued his scowling like a little child would do.

"She has not been well recently mother," Sherlock said and began to quickly pull the sheets onto the bed, straightening the room out. "Normally the place is spotless. She has an obsession with cleaning."

"Are you sure?" his mother ran her finger along the bedside cabinet which was collecting dust.

"Well if I had known you were planning on intruding on my private room then I would have made sure it was clean for you," Sherlock said sarcastically.

"I would have hoped you would have had the decency to hide away her underwear," his mother said and Sherlock placed a hand onto his hip, still wearing his grey coat as his mother looked around the room uncertainly.

"I can't believe that after an Oxford education this is all you managed to do," she raised her hands and twirled around, indicating to the surroundings. "You're a bright boy Sherlock...you need not waste your time with your website...the Scientific Deduce..."

"The Science of Deduction," Sherlock corrected her. "And I do not waste my time. I am perfectly happy living here."

"How can you be happy living in such a small flat with a male and your girlfriend?" she asked him. "Don't you want a home of your own? A place to raise a family?"

"Mother..." Sherlock groaned. "Scarlett and I are very early on in the relationship. With all due respect; I don't think it to be any of your business as to how I live my life."

"I'm your mother Sherlock," she replied curtly. "It is my responsibility. After all that education you received and this is where you live...221A Baker Street..." she complained and shook her head.

"It's B," Sherlock simply said. "Now why are you here?"

"To make sure you were still alive," she quickly spoke back. "You were not answering my calls and Mycroft had told me about your little girlfriend...I had hoped to meet her."

"She's not in the mood for visitors," Sherlock said. "Especially not old nosy women."

"You shall watch who your tongue," she demanded her son. "I am your mother and you treat me with respect."

"Like you treated father with respect?" Sherlock asked her and she lowered her eyes to the floor and then looked at her youngest son.

"Do not drag your father into this Sherlock," she warned him. "He is deceased."

"There's also the fact that you cheated on him," Sherlock pointed out. "And you have the nerve to come in here and preach to me."

"I do have the nerve," she nodded. "Because I am your mother...family is important Sherlock. Of course, you wouldn't think so...who is this?" she picked a picture up and looked at it before showing it to Sherlock who took it from her hands and placed it back onto the chest of drawers in the corner.

"That is Scarlett and her brother," Sherlock said. "He was killed in the war."

"She has very curly hair," his mother simply responded. "Of course they can't naturally look like that...how often does she have her hair done?"

"Very rarely," Sherlock said. "Her hair has those natural curls."

"I suppose you could have done worse," she sniffed. "At least she doesn't have frizzy hair."

"Are you quite done commenting on her hairstyle?" Sherlock asked.

"She's as thin as a rake..." she said and then looked her son up and down. "Like you then...does she not feed you Sherlock? Does she not feed herself?"

"Scarlett and I look after ourselves very well, thank you very much for your recent concern mother. I daresay it is overwhelming me," Sherlock spoke ironically.

"Sarcasm does not become you Sherlock," his mother said and she opened up the wardrobe and pulled out Scarlett's little black dress.

"High Street Label," his mother scoffed. "Then again, on her salary I imagine that is all she can afford...nothing desinger."

Sherlock rushed over to the woman and snatched the hanger with the dress on it and placed it back into the wardrobe, shutting the door quickly as the small woman walked around the room and found a picture of Scarlett graduating. Sherlock placed his bottom lip over his top and his eyes went wide in annoyance as he tried not to snap at the woman who had given him life.

"What did she graduate with?"

"A first in Law," Sherlock said.

"University?"

"York."

"Hm," his mother simply said. "Not a prestigious one then?"

"Cambridge and Oxford are not the only universities mother," Sherlock told the woman.

"They are the only ones which mean something," she replied. "And yet she is only a secretary."

"Was," Sherlock said. "Her firm immigrated to Australia."

"And has she not begun looking for another job?"

"She's been ill," Sherlock said. "She developed a complication of pneumonia."

"Any excuse," she muttered and Sherlock huffed.

"Now if you don't mind mother," Sherlock concluded the conversation, "I would find it most apt if you were to leave because I have to go and visit her."

"Have the pair of you not discussed marriage?" his mother asked as Sherlock guided her from his room.

"No mother," Sherlock said and John remained in the bathroom where he had been, hiding from the old woman as he heard their voices move down the hall.

"You're thirty one Sherlock," she scolded him. "How old is she?"

"Twenty six," Sherlock replied.

"Plenty of time to bear a child...but don't wait too long," his mother spoke, wagging her finger as he urged her to go down the stairs before he threw her down.

"I shall send Scarlett your kind regards then," Sherlock spoke lowly and sarcastically as he opened the door for her and she looked at him.

"You could have been anything," she shook her head and stepped onto the stone step.

"I could have been," he agreed with her. "Now do tell Mycroft that he needs to find better hiding places then just across the street," Sherlock looked at the car his brother was sat in and his mother looked over at Mycroft and then to her other son.

"Don't continue wasting your life Sherlock," she warned him. "As soon as Susanne-"

"Scarlett."

"Whatever," she shook her head. "As soon as she is better than I want you to bring her to the estate."

"So you can humiliate her and scrutinise her?" Sherlock cocked a brow.

"It is my job to do so Sherlock."

"I bet she cannot wait."

...

"Your mother?" John spat out as they travelled in a cab, a bag of Scarlett's belongings in Sherlock's lap as he looked at his friend.

"Everyone has one John," Sherlock told his friend. "They are a big part in the reproductive system."

"You never mentioned her," John pointed out.

"Why would I want to?" Sherlock asked. "She's a nosy old bat who has a tendency to belittle people and make them feel inferior in comparison to her."

"Like you then?"

"Don't you dare compare me to my mother," Sherlock hissed. "Don't you dare."

"Okay," John raised his hands in surrender. "Bit of a touchy subject."

"And don't tell Scarlett about this either."

"Why not?"

"Because she will only want to meet her," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "She is very traditional."

"Normal people are," John muttered.

"Have you met Sarah's parents?"

"Yes. They were very nice actually."

"I am sure they were," Sherlock said sarcastically.

"And you don't want her to meet Scarlett...why?"

"Because she will only mock her and humiliate her."

"So you're protecting her?"

"I have her best interests at heart...I think she'd only make a fool of herself if she met my mother...and I cannot be bothered with the after effects."

...

"John Watson!" Sarah snapped when she saw John walking into the hospital and she hung up her phone and placed it into her pocket.

"What's going on?" John asked, stood in the cold near the entrance doors as Sherlock looked at the woman who was going red.

"I've been trying to call your for the last hour and a half!" she snapped.

"That's my fault," Sherlock replied. "We've been busy."

"Too busy to know that Scarlett has had to go for surgery?" Sarah snapped.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"You heard," Sarah replied. "Her breathing was too severe and she was in so much pain that they had no choice. She's been in bits all morning and wanted to wait for you come to her before agreeing to it."

"Why?" Sherlock wondered.

"To assure her she would be okay...she was as nervous as anything Sherlock..." Sarah shook her head.

"And how is she?" John asked.

"She's still asleep. They said the surgery went well and she should be breathing better soon."

"All is good then," Sherlock said with a grim look on his face as he tried to brush past Sarah but she caught onto his arm and stopped him.

"It is anything but good Sherlock. I was the one who had to be here and assure her she would be fine. Me! I don't even know her that well! I had to listen to her breathing worsen...and every breath which she took had your name in it...she thinks the world of you for some odd reason and yet you weren't here when she needed you most. You're never there when she needs you, are you?" Sarah asked and John held onto her arm whilst Sherlock remained emotionless and looked at Sarah.

"Sarah," John warned her.

"No," she shook her head. "You've put that girl in danger multiple times Sherlock and left her to deal with it alone most times. You risk people's lives as long as you get off on it. And it isn't just Scarlett but it is John too! Whenever someone needs you then you're not there...I don't know why Scarlett has put up with you. You left her after her miscarriage for some case and once again you left her today when you should have been by her side, making sure she was safe instead of calling in me...I can't give her the comfort she needs...but then again...neither can you. I often wonder if her life would be better without you."

Sherlock remained silent for a moment and thought about what she had just said before he simply just took off in the other direction and John watched after him before he began to walk to him.

"Where are you going?" Sarah snapped.

"To see if he is okay," John said and she shook her head.

"Leave him to sulk. Scarlett may want to see a friendly face," Sarah said.

"It wasn't in your place to tell him that Sarah," John warned her. "You may have just caused something dangerous," John looked on as Sherlock hailed a cab and climbed into it.

"I spoke my mind. Sherlock Holmes is a dangerous man to be around...he is not reliable John..."

"But he's a good man," John stuck up for him.

"He's a good man who has abandoned the woman he loves for some case!"

"He was trying to keep her safe," John replied.

"And he could have done that and picked up his phone when it was ringing but he didn't," Sarah replied. "He's not reliable...and he'll just continue to not be there for Scarlett. Does she deserve that?"

...

I know, 2 chapters in one day! Must be the horrid weather driving me to this! Anyway, thank you to Arreis who once again reviewed earlier! Glad you like Sherlock's mother, haha!


	11. Chapter 11

"Scarlett," Sarah whispered her name as she saw her eyes open slightly and she looked around the room, searching for one certain individual who she had yet to see.

"Scarlett," John whispered and the blonde began to sit up and she looked at John. Her mind was still groggy but she was coherent and her breathing felt a lot better.

"Where is he?" she croaked out and John and Sarah looked at each other.

"He's-"

"On his way soon," John interrupted Sarah and she looked over at him and he nodded at her sternly before she smiled forcefully back at Scarlett who knew something was going on. She may have just come out of an anaesthetic but she wasn't stupid.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where is he?"

"Well...you see..."

"He's here," a new voice entered the room and John and Sarah stepped aside to reveal the frowning Sherlock as he stood in the doorway, his hands stuffed in his pockets as Scarlett looked at him and then Sarah who seemed to have a face like thunder at that moment in time.

"We'll leave you to it," she said curtly. "Come on John."

John smiled once at Scarlett and grasped her hand tightly before following his girlfriend out past the quizzing glance of the consulting detective.

"How are you feeling?" Sherlock asked Scarlett, still lingering near the door as if he were ready to bolt out at any given moment.

"Tired," Scarlett simply said and leant back against her cushions which she had plumped up. "But I think that feeling shall pass."

"No doubt," Sherlock replied. "It will be the anaesthetic making your drowsy."

"So I've been told," she nodded and Sherlock sighed once, picking up on her determination to be curt and angry with him for reasons which he could understand but at the same time he couldn't. If he were a normal person then he would understand why she would be annoyed and yet he couldn't understand it. She knew his work came first. It always did and it always would.

"I apologise for not being here sooner," Sherlock said, remaining civil as he paced to the side of the bed. "I was busy trying to find George."

"I gathered," Scarlett managed to say.

"Am I going to get any more than a sentence out of you or is your vocabulary limited?" he asked her, trying not to sound snide but failing miserably.

"Don't be an arse Sherlock," she begged him. "Not today."

"It would help if you would tell me what is making you act cold towards me," Sherlock said.

"I was annoyed," her voice broke and she sounded raspy. "I was annoyed that you didn't answer your phone...I didn't expect you to be here...but I expected you to pick up."

"If I had known anything serious may have happened then I would have," he assured her.

"But you don't know Sherlock...I don't want to argue..." she said and her hand went to her throat in slight pain at speaking and her other held onto her chest. Sherlock picked up on the movement and sat on the side of her bed, his own hand removing hers from her throat as he soothingly stroked it up and down.

"I am sorry," he told her. "I didn't realise being alone would affect you like it has done."

"I wasn't that scared," she said. "I just wanted some comfort."

"Scarlett," he complained slightly. "I'm not safe...I can't comfort you all the time."

"I know," she said. "I need to be a big girl and stand on my own two feet. Not rely on you all the time."

"You can rely on me," he assured her. "Just not when I have a case."

"I know. You told me that ages ago," she pointed out.

"But I can see why you're slightly annoyed," he said and reached over to the water pitcher and poured her a drink. "You wanted someone to be here when you woke up...and Sarah's annoying tone is not one which you need to wake up to...and John...well..." Sherlock joked and handed Scarlett the water as she jokingly hit him on the chest and he managed to smile widely at her, pressing his lips onto her forehead.

"Are we okay?" he asked.

"We will be," she promised and then sniffed the air and raised a brow at him in questioning.

"You've been smoking?"

"Damn it, I knew I should have bought some gum," he whispered. "I jumped into a cab and then realised I needed to be with you...I had a cigarette before I came..."

"Why?"

"Because sometimes I find it impossible not to do so in some situations?" he sounded riled.

"You were doing so well," she said.

"Wasn't I just?" he murmured. "But I shall stop again soon...see..." he removed his coat and rolled up his sleeves and showed her the nicotine patches on his arm which he had been wearing all day.

"Just be careful," she said.

"So this is Scarlett?" a sudden voice asked and Sherlock took the water from her hands as Scarlett looked at the woman in the doorway and Sherlock simply just managed to groan loudly as the woman entered the room and offered her hand to Scarlett.

"Violet Holmes," she said. "How do you do?"

"Um...hi..." Scarlett managed to take her hand and limply shake it as Sherlock stood up and looked at his mother.

"Weak handshake," Violet shook her head. "Never a good sign."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked her. "Spying on me?"

"No dear," Violet said and looked at Scarlett who was looking intently at Sherlock.

"Well then why are you here?" he asked her and she smiled dangerously at him.

"I think I am entitled to meet the woman who my son is dating, don't you?"

"Mother?" Scarlett croaked out and she looked from Sherlock to Violet and noticed some similarities. The cheekbones, for instance. And the piercing stare.

"Yes, mother," Sherlock confirmed. "Though I specifically told you not to come today when Scarlett is still quite weak and not in the mood for visitors."

"But I wanted to make sure she was alright. After all, you've kept her quite a secret from me,"

"Why do you think I have done that?" Sherlock asked her and Scarlett and Violet looked at him questioningly.

"Yes...why have you been keeping her from me?" Violet pondered.

"You know why," Sherlock said lowly. _You'll chew her up and then spit her out for breakfast_ Sherlock thought.

"I don't," Scarlett squeaked.

"Tell me dear," Violet began and sat on the edge of her bed, "why did you never pursue a career in Law?"

"Pardon?" Scarlett blinked several times.

"You have a Law degree, yes?" she asked and Scarlett nodded.

"I do," she agreed and Sherlock simply folded his arms and glared at his mother.

"Well then," Violet laughed. "Why not go for a good career? Why settle for such a mundane job...and speaking of settling...when do you plan to settle down with my son?"

"Excuse me?" Scarlett asked. "I don't know...we've only been going out for a while..."

"So you don't know Sherlock that well if you've only been going out for a while?" she checked. "So why are you with him?"

"I love him," Scarlett simply said, her throat beginning to pull a little.

"Love?" she checked. "Why do you love him?"

"Mother," Sherlock warned her.

"Because the way I see it," Violet clarified, "you're not worthy of him."

"Sorry?"

"You heard me," Violet said brashly. "You're nowhere near as clever as he is...you're certainly trying to be something you're not with your flashy wardrobe which is full of items similar to those in designer stores but nowhere near as expensive which means you're trying to imitate the well dressed. You also have confidence issues...hence the push up bra-"

"How the hell do you know that?" Scarlett squeaked out and she looked at Sherlock.

"Mycroft gave her a key to the flat...she was in their when I came in."

"Grotty little place, wouldn't you say?" Violet asked her. "Although I imagine it is much better than where you lived."

"I had a nice house," Scarlett whispered, her voice small as the woman simply continued to pick on her.

"Well then that would be a good place to settle down...although I dare not imagine what your child would be like-"

"Shut up!" Scarlett snapped, her voice weak but demanding.

"Pardon?" she sounded appalled as Scarlett began to cry.

"Sherlock," she begged him.

"Get out mother," Sherlock demanded. "Now!"

"I don't understand-"

"Out!" he snapped.

"I shall not be treated like this," she stomped her foot as Scarlett simply just wiped away her tears and Sherlock ushered his mother from the room.

"Have a good day and don't rush back," Sherlock said and he shut the door in her face before walking back over to the bed where he saw Scarlett glaring at him.

"You could have defended me," she informed him.

"Excuse me?"

"There were some occasions where you let her just slander me!" Scarlett snapped and Sherlock began to roll his eyes.

"She would have said those things anyway," he told her.

"But you never disagreed with her," Scarlett pointed out to.

"There was no need to. You know what I think of you," he said. "Don't let her upset you."

"Well she has done," Scarlett murmured. "And so did you."

"Just because-"

"Yes!" Scarlett interrupted. "Just because!" and she rolled onto her side and curled into a ball before she heard Sherlock walk to the door and she looked back at him.

"Where are you going?"

"I need a cigarette," he said and picked up his coat as he left and went through its pockets.

"Don't," she warned him.

"It's either a cigarette or something stronger," he replied. "With a mother like her I can honestly say I could opt for something stronger."


	12. Chapter 12

"And you've left her again, haven't you?" a scathing voice simply asked Sherlock as the consulting detective toyed with the cigarette packed in his hand, wondering if it was worth it or not.

"With all due respect," Sherlock replied quietly to Sarah as he saw her approach him in the setting sun, her hands on her hips and John trailing behind her like her loyal little lapdog as she went. "You have no idea what Scarlett and I have been through. You have no idea what it is like to live in my mind and so I would appreciate you to keep your opinions to yourself."

Sherlock's jaw remained set as Sarah shook her head.

"I'm glad I don't know what it is like in your mind," she replied in a mutter.

"Meaning?"

"Dear God..." John complained, slapping a hand onto his forehead and turning around as he did so, wondering why the hell they were acting like complete and utter imbeciles.

"Meaning that if I had your mind then I would go insane," she said.

"Wouldn't you be able to put up with the high IQ?" he asked her and she rolled her eyes.

"You're not normal Sherlock...you don't care for people-"

"That's not true," he jumped onto her sentence. "Don't you dare stand there and blurt out that rubbish."

"I'm right," Sarah raised a finger. "If you cared for her then you would be with her now."

"I care for her," Sherlock spoke through gritted teeth and Sarah snorted.

"It doesn't look like that from a normal perspective," she hissed.

"Well Scarlett and I are not normal," Sherlock said. "I don't need to stand here and tell you everything which is going on."

"Sherlock!" John snapped as he saw his friend open the cigarette packet and pull out a long tube before he snatched it from him and hid the packet into his own pocket and knocked the cigarette from his friend's hand.

"What was that for?" Sherlock snapped.

"Because you were doing so well and you don't need to smoke. It is bad for you," John informed him.

"So I have been told," he said and heard his phone go off before he looked onto it and couldn't help but grin.

"He's smirking!" Sarah spat, her arm raised and pointed at Sherlock who was texting ferociously back whilst John held onto her hand and calmed her down.

"I have to go," Sherlock said. "Tell Scarlett that I know where he is."

"Tell her yourself," Sarah huffed and John rolled his eyes.

"I'll tell her," he promised his friend. "Don't do anything stupid."

"He's Sherlock Holmes. Of course he'll do something stupid," Sarah replied before Sherlock had a chance to say anything back and the detective looked a little put out by her.

"And keep your girlfriend under control John," Sherlock spoke boldly and then rushed off for a cab.

...

"Where is he? Did he smoke?" Scarlett worried when she saw John enter the room and the man shook his head and smiled weakly at her.

"I took them off him," John said simply. "He didn't look too impressed but I am sure he shall survive."

"So where is he?" she asked again.

"Moriarty...he knows where he is," John simply said and Scarlett gasped loudly before pushing the covers back from her bed and trying to get up, fighting against John who wondered where her sudden adrenaline had come from.

"I have to find him," she croaked.

"No," John said sternly. "You've just come round from an operation."

"But it's Sherlock!" she snapped. "If something happens..."

"It won't," John promised her. "Trust me."

"I can't take your word John when I know he wants him dead..."

"You're too weak to help anyone," John said. "I'll go after him...I'll call him and find him."

"You'll put yourself in danger," Scarlett replied.

"Because I've never done that for him."

...

Sherlock jumped out the cab to see the hustle and bustle of London in the evening. He walked along the pavement, minding his own business, searching for where he had wanted to meet him. Sherlock couldn't help but blink several times at the tall building where a man in a red suit stood at the door, greeting you as you walked in. Surely this was not a place a criminal mastermind would come. Sherlock walked into the bar on the right as the text instruction had told him. He felt completely dressed down in comparison to all the people who were wondering around, wearing slinky gowns and expensive suits. And then he saw her. Irene Adler. She was dressed in a green gown, sat at the bar and sipping cocktails as she looked at Sherlock and extended her hand and toasted him as he walked over to her, his eyes taking in the surroundings before he settled himself down on the stool next to hers.

"I was under the apprehension I would be having more gentleman like company," Sherlock told her, ordering a water as he did so.

"Were you?" she raised a brow. "Well George is terribly busy...and he didn't want to stand you up."

"So this is his idea of a replacement?" Sherlock checked.

"Will I do?" she wondered and raised her shoulders whilst Sherlock's face frowned.

"Not really," he simply said and Irene pulled her brown hair behind her shoulders and leaned in closer to Sherlock.

"Wrong answer," she whispered into his ear. "And how is dear little Scarlett?"

"I would tell you if I believed you were concerned about her welfare. Considering you are not then I shall keep that information private," he said and Irene giggled lightly and sipped on her alcoholic beverage.

"You're very protective of her Sherlock," Irene said. "It would be a shame if you knew..."

"I know all Miss Adler," Sherlock told her. "It is the benefits of having a mind like my own."

"Oh I can imagine," she nodded. "And yet you don't know why George isn't here. Do you?"

"He seems a busy man Miss Adler," Sherlock replied. "There could be many reasons as to why you're here and he is not."

"I'm a decoy," she said simply. "He needed you out the picture."

"Why?" Sherlock replied.

"The answer is lying in a hospital bed."

...

"John!" Sherlock yelled into his phone as he ran past the crowds of people, ignoring their protests of him to mind his manners. He was in trouble and he knew it. The ringing stopped and it went straight to voicemail as Sherlock knocked a book from a couple's hands and managed to hail a cab, promising a fifty pound tip if he went a little faster. As soon as the cab pulled up, Sherlock handed the money over and jumped from it as it barely had time to stop. He rushed through the hospital corridors, skidding slightly as he went before he saw her room. She was still there.

"Scarlett," Sherlock gasped as he entered the room and she looked up at him as he moved to the bed and held her tightly against him, his hands seeming to roam her body, checking she was really there.

"What's the matter?" Scarlett asked. "John left a few moments ago...I thought you would have seen him..."

"You're still here," Sherlock simply sighed and she held onto his upper arms as he kissed her on the forehead.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she wondered.

"Because he's after you..." Sherlock simply said.

"He?" new voice snapped. "He does have a name...and he prefers to be known as George Moriarty."


	13. Chapter 13

"Neither one of you has anything to say?" the man squeaked and Sherlock looked at him as he stood up and continued standing in front of Scarlett as she searched for the red button by the side of her bed to call the nurse in with.

"I don't particularly have anything that I would like to say to you," Sherlock simply replied and the man chuckled deeply, looking into the consulting detective's eyes as Scarlett took in his appearance. You could say that George Moriarty was similar to his brother in some features. Both of them had eyes which could pierce through you and they also were of similar build. George was blonde, however, and much younger. His age seemed quite interesting for he looked younger than Scarlett and Sherlock couldn't help but notice.

"How very rude," he chuckled. "And please may you tell your girlfriend that reaching for the button will do nothing…it seems the hospital is experiencing a slight power failure at the moment."

"Caused by you, no doubt?" Sherlock raised a brow and George smile slyly.

"Obviously," he said. "At least when there is a power cut then no one can interrupt out little chat, eh?"

"So this is only a social visit?" Sherlock asked him.

"At the moment," he nodded. "Don't worry. Your death will be soon…both of you…"

"Your brother said the same thing," Sherlock grunted. "And look where that got him."

"He died a hero," George said.

"He died a fool. There is no dignity in death," Sherlock replied curtly and George turned red.

"Don't talk about my brother like that! He outsmarted you on multiple occasions!"

"And every time he did," Sherlock drawled, "I managed to gain the upper hand."

"Not this time."

"That remains to be seen."

"Although you did interrupt my plan…Miss Adler gave away our location far too early. Were you worried Sherlock?"

Sherlock remained silent, unable to say anything that would not give away his emotions. Playing with Moriarty was like playing a game of poker. You had to remain emotionless.

"So it is true," he nodded. "You really do love her…I had wondered about what people said…but with you being the psychopathic genius you are I had to wonder if she would be able to hold your interest for longer than a few months."

"Is there a reason as to why you are here?" Sherlock snapped, not wanting to get caught up in the emotional game he was playing as George straightened out his tie and slicked his blonde hair back as he looked at the couple.

"It was to come and take Miss Jenson…but now I shall leave you with a warning."

"How caring," Sherlock mumbled.

"Don't worry, there's nothing you can do to prevent my warning from happening," he promised Sherlock.

"Then don't waste your breath," Sherlock suggested. "I can imagine it will be the usual 'watch your back' and all the sayings from films which people use to threaten others."

"In that case," George clapped his hands, "I shall leave you to it."

"See you later," Sherlock drawled, watching as George moved to the door.

"I do hope so."

…

"He couldn't have been older than twenty two!" Sherlock snapped that same evening. Scarlett had discharged herself, not being able to feel safe in the hospital and wanting to go back to 221B where Sherlock was. She was sat on the sofa, still looking a mess in her thick duvet whilst Sherlock paced up and down, his hands going through his hair as he spoke out loudly to himself even though Scarlett was in the room. He had a tendency for doing that.

"He looks like he has just come out of university and yet here he is! Trying to outsmart me! The criminal ranks really need to wise up…I shall not be made a fool of by a teenager!"

"I don't think he is trying to make you look a fool," Scarlett's voice was raspy. "I just think he wants you dead…and twenty two is not a teenage year."

"I am aware," Sherlock replied to her. "I need to find Mycroft," Sherlock suddenly said and reached for his coat whilst Scarlett sighed loudly.

"Why?"

"Because he will know his age," Sherlock responded quickly.

"Just call him," Scarlett said.

"I don't phone people," he retorted.

"Well then text him because you are not leaving me here by myself!" she demanded him, her eyes lowering onto the duvet as her fist fell down onto it and Sherlock looked at her.

"Come with me then," he said and continued shrugging into his coat.

"I've just had an operation," she shook her head. "Doesn't that mean anything to you? I'm not allowed to be outside yet…"

"But-"

"No buts," she snapped. "Text him if it is that important to you."

"Fine," Sherlock huffed, not wanting to annoy her anymore than he appeared to be doing as she nodded once and sipped on the hot drink which burnt her throat as it went down.

"Sent," he said and walked over to the fireplace and looked onto his map of London. He had drawn on all the possibly hiding locations for a man like George. He had deduced many things about him. And he knew for a fact that he was not as smooth as his brother. He was still young and inexperienced. Yes, he was good for he had learnt from the best, but he was not the best yet.

"Good," Scarlett replied. "Now what do we do?"

"I don't know," Sherlock placed his hands together and rested a finger on his lips as he looked at the map, deep in thought.

"Well you'll think of something," Scarlett sighed.

"Why do you assume that?"

"Because you always do?" she replied rhetorically and Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and cocked his head to the side, not disagreeing with her.

"It's just a waiting game," Sherlock said. "He'll be watching…waiting to make his move…the question is when will he…and what he will do when he does…"

"But we'll be one step ahead of him right?" she checked and Sherlock began to draw the curtains shut as the rain poured down onto the glass. The consulting detective looked onto the street, noting a black car sat opposite the road as he eyed it up. But he said nothing about it, not being able to deal with Scarlett's wittering if he told her.

"We shall always be one step ahead," Sherlock replied and his phone suddenly vibrated.

"He's twenty one!" Sherlock snapped when he read Mycroft's text and he shook his head in disbelief.

"How dare he?" Scarlett asked sarcastically and Sherlock flounced down on the sofa beside her, folding his arms as he did so, sulking like a little child.

"Now I most certainly need to get to him before he gets to us," Sherlock said quickly. "I shall not be defeated by a toddler."

"He's a toddler now, is he?" Scarlett raised a brow. "I thought he was a teenager?"

"Don't play with my words Scarlett," Sherlock looked into her eyes. "We both know it shall not end well."

"As you say," she yawned and began to lie down, resting her head on Sherlock's shoulder as she draped her body over his lap.

"Comfortable?" he asked and she pulled the duvet back around her.

"Hmm," she agreed tiredly.

Before she even had time to think about sleep Sherlock reached for his phone on the coffee table, almost pushing her from his lap before he began to text quickly and she looked at him.

"What are you doing now?"

"Telling my mother that the family Christmas Dinner for next year is off," he said sarcastically.

"If you're not going to be sensible then I'll just go to bed," she said and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm texting Lestrade."

"Why?"

"Because I want to know why Irene Adler had his number in her phonebook."

…

More shall be explained later dear readers don't worry! Thank you to Arreis for reviewing!


	14. Chapter 14

"Excuse me?" Scarlett asked Sherlock as she sat on his lap, her throat still croaky as Sherlock finished his text and dropped his phone onto her lap which was on his.

"When I went to meet Miss Adler I noticed his number in her phonebook which she had on the bar surface...at first I didn't think anything of it due to the fact she only had his number...the numbers finally made sense and it was only then when I realised it was Lestrade."

"Why do you think she has his number? Surely if he knew her then he would arrest her...she's got to be in the government most wanted list," Scarlett replied and Sherlock allowed a small grin to fall onto his face as he looked down at her.

"It isn't the FBI Scarlett. They don't tend to have Most Wanted lists like the Americans do."

"How would you know that?"

"I read in my free time," he shrugged and his phone suddenly began to vibrate and he picked it back up, checking it quickly before sliding her body from his lap and reaching for his coat and scarf, quickly moving into them before Scarlett readjusted herself on the sofa and looked over at him with wide eyes.

"Let me guess," she whispered, "he wants you to meet him somewhere?"

"Scotland Yard," Sherlock didn't bother buttoning his coat up. "I need to get to the bottom of this."

"I am well aware. And do you promise to be careful?" Scarlett checked with him and he smirked carelessly at her.

"My promises don't tend to be kept well," he told her. "But you look after yourself, okay? Don't let anyone in and have John come home."

"He's with-"

"I don't care if he is with that blonde haired boring doctor," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "He will realise that you come before she does when we are in situations like this."

"That's not fair Sherlock," Scarlett replied. "He shouldn't have to give up his life just because you anger people."

"It isn't just me who has angered him," Sherlock pointed out. "You helped too."

"But-"

"No arguments," Sherlock demanded and placed his phone into his pocket and then took for the stairs. "Don't let anyone in!"

...

"I think I know what this is about," Lestrade said, allowing Sherlock into his office late at night, flipping through a brown file as he did so, switching on another lamp in his room before settling down into his leather chair and rubbing his eyes whilst Sherlock remained stood, his face emotionless, looking at Lestrade and monitoring his every movement.

"If you are so sure then why don't you guess?" Sherlock replied. Lestrade dropped his file onto the table and looked at the consulting detective.

"It's about Moriarty isn't it?" Lestrade asked. "Your brother told me about him earlier today. Apparently he is out for you and Scarlett...he wants me to keep an eye on you."

"Did he really?" Sherlock drawled. "How touching."

"Yes, I thought so," Lestrade said. "But then I remembered that you don't do caring for people."

"I don't," Sherlock confirmed. "But Mycroft does."

"So is that why you're here?" Lestrade wondered and Sherlock simply shook his head, sitting down in the seat opposite his desk, looking at him from over the stacks of paperwork.

"No," Sherlock said lowly. "That is not why I am here."

"Oh?"

"Hmm," Sherlock confirmed. "Why does Irene Adler have your number in her phonebook?"

"Who?" Lestrade asked. "Never heard of her."

"She seems to know you," Sherlock replied. "Your number is in her phone Inspector Lestrade."

"I'm telling you the truth Sherlock," Lestrade said, desperation apparent in his voice as Sherlock managed to look at him, deducing if he was lying or not.

"No you're not," Sherlock replied. "You're sweating far too much and you've just loosened your tie...and swinging around in your chair doesn't help."

"You can't do that Sherlock," Lestrade growled.

"Do what?"

"Read me like you do other people," he snapped.

"What makes you so special?"

"I keep you in a job."

"And I can easily destroy yours," Sherlock replied quickly. "Now tell me."

"I am," he replied.

"No you're not," Sherlock said.

"Fine!" he snapped. "I slept with her!"

Sherlock remained silent for a minute and continued staring at Lestrade, waiting for an explanation.

"It was the other week...I was at a bar and I met her..."

"Save me the trivial details," Sherlock pleaded with him. "I imagine I know the rest of what happened. I am imagining she took your number when you were asleep due to the fact you don't want to be associated with her and so you must know that she is top government priority. But I am also guessing she has been phoning you recently...blackmail?" Sherlock guessed and Lestrade sighed.

"She wanted information," he whispered.

"On me?" Sherlock checked and Lestrade nodded.

"She threatened to tell my wife of this Sherlock," Lestrade said in a raspy voice. "I didn't know what I was doing...we've been having problems at home-"

"And you don't want to break up with her because you truly do love her and want things to work," Sherlock interrupted quickly. "Did you give her any information?"

"Are you honestly asking?" Lestrade checked and Sherlock nodded.

"If I was not planning on asking then I would not have asked."

"I told her nothing," he snapped. "And how could you think I would do such a thing?"

"People do anything when they are desperate," Sherlock spoke deadly.

"I would never tell her anything about you or Scarlett. I couldn't do that to you."

"Why not?"

"Because it would mean betraying you and you know that I need you Sherlock...even if you are an arsehole."

"Thank you very much," he said, sounding serious for some odd reason. "And why did you not tell me of this sooner?"

"I haven't told anyone up until now," Lestrade grunted. "I didn't know how to tell anyone without them knowing about my affair."

"You could have told me," Sherlock said. "You should have told me."

"Well you know now."

"Hmm."

"And what do you plan to do?"

"Find out why she wants information on me...and then find Moriarty and kill him."

"You can't do that Sherlock. You'll go down for murder."

"Not if no one finds out," Sherlock said and began to stand up and move over to the door.

"You've just told me!" Lestrade snapped.

"No I didn't," Sherlock replied and opened the door.

"But you did!"

"Definitely did not," Sherlock shouted and continued moving down the side of desks. "I shall see you later Detective Inspector."

...

"What happened?" Scarlett yawned at four o'clock in the morning when she felt Sherlock settle down on the bed beside her and she rolled onto her side, looking at him. He remained on top of the covers in his suit which was beginning to crease and he ran his hand through his hair. The darkness remained in the room and Sherlock began to think about what to do, his brain working overtime as he ignored the half asleep girl next to him and she nudged him in the ribs but he didn't flinch.

"Sherlock?" she asked.

"Hmm?" he wondered, still in his own world.

"What happened?"

"Not a lot. Go back to sleep."

"Sherlock," she complained with a yawn.

"You won't be awake for the whole story. I need to think and then I shall talk to you," Sherlock promised.

"Why can't you speak with me now?"

"Because you're not coherent and I need to think about the whole story. Now be quiet."

"God you're such an arse," Scarlett huffed and rolled onto her side whilst Sherlock remained with his own thoughts.

"I love you too," he whispered in his unconsciousness and Scarlett simply just smiled, resting her hand under her cheek and not saying anything back to him, savouring the moment he had told her that he did love her.

...

Thank you to everyone reading! Sorry I haven't updated in a few days but I've been busy studying and working and life is just so busy! But please do review and let me know what you want to happen next!


	15. Chapter 15

"Sherlock," Scarlett called through the flat, walking through the corridor into the kitchen, wondering where the consulting detective had gotten to at six in the morning. She had woken up to not find him next to her and now he was not in the flat. Sighing loudly, she pulled her long woollen cardigan around her body tighter and ran a hand through her hair before taking to the stairs to the third floor, knocking on John's bedroom door in the hope he was there.

"Yeah?" John asked her, opening his door and looking at Scarlett who was in her grey jogging pants, white shirt and oversized cardigan.

"Have you seen Sherlock at all?" she wondered. "He's not here."

"I went down to the kitchen earlier but I couldn't tell if he had been there or not. I presumed he was in bed with you," John replied, keeping the door tight to his body.

"Right," she nodded. "He must have gone out...I'll find him...somewhere..."

"Scarlett!" John called out as she stood on the first step. "He won't have gone far...he'll be fine..."

"I'm sure-"

"John...are you coming back to bed?" a voice asked and Scarlett raised a brow at John who simply went wide eyed and she smirked at him.

"I didn't know Sarah came back with you," she stated and John turned red.

"Yes...well...I mean it was late...and..."

"Spare the details John," Scarlett chuckled. "I'll see you later."

...

"You're in a cafe?" Scarlett spat out, walking into the place where Sherlock had first asked her out. He looked at her with wide eyes as she remained stood at the end of the booth he occupied alone.

"Evidentially," he said, running a hand through his black hair as he sipped on his tea in the plain white mug, Scarlett sitting opposite him and looking at him.

"Why did you come here?" she wondered. "We have tea at home."

"I needed some space," he told her honestly. "I need to think."

"Oh," she simply replied. "You could have left me a note."

"I could have," Sherlock agreed with her.

"What's going on Sherlock? You can't keep secrets from me..." Scarlett pleaded, resting her hands onto the table and leaning forward slightly as Sherlock remained sat back, looking into her eyes deeply.

"Would you like a hot chocolate?" Sherlock simply asked, pulling his wallet out and moving from the booth with haste. Scarlett remained seated whilst her eyes looked onto Sherlock's back, watching as he paid for the hot chocolate and walked back to her.

"Thanks," she said. "Now answer my question."

"There is no answer," he replied. "I don't have anything to say Scarlett...I just need to think of a plan...how to catch him..."

"You'll think of something."

"You believe so?" he raised a brow. "Because at this moment in time it is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands if you shall."

"Eventually smoke disappears," Scarlett informed him.

"Very true," he said. "Your voice seems better this morning."

"Does it?" she raised a brow. "It doesn't hurt as much."

"Hmm."

...

Sherlock dropped Scarlett's hand as soon as they entered the flat, his leather clad hands falling beside his body as he pushed the door open, allowing the blonde into the building first before noticing it under the mat. Scarlett stopped in the hallway, running her cotton covered hands through her blonde hair, puffing it up as Sherlock stood behind her, needing to get her to leave the hall before he pulled whatever was under the mat out from its hiding place.

"You look nice," he said, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin onto her shoulder.

"What are you doing Sherlock?" Scarlett wondered, watching him in the mirror as his lips went onto her neck.

"Nothing," he replied, suddenly biting down on her skin, causing her to moan involuntarily before he smirked.

"Sherlock," she whispered his name, turning in his arms before he kissed her quickly.

"You go upstairs," he muttered in her ear. "I'm going to make sure Mrs Hudson is out."

"Why?" she wondered.

"Because I don't want her to hear you screaming my name," he winked lightly and she rolled her eyes but took to the stairs. Sherlock's smile fell from his lips as soon as her eyes left his face and he watched as she walked into the flat. Sherlock quickly fell to his knees by the front door mat and he pulled out the envelope where his name was written on the front, he peeled the lid open and found a note.

_Don't be late_

_He'll be waiting...and I'll be watching._

_IA._

Sherlock pushed the note back into the envelope and then looked back into the envelope where one ticket to Switzerland sat proudly. The plane was departing at seven that evening and Sherlock looked up at the stairs as he stood swiftly, placing the envelope into his coat pocket before wondering why he would need to go to Switzerland. Why would Irene Adler want him there? Why would Moriarty want him there? He had no choice but to find out and he knew it. It intrigued him too much.

"No...he just went out for some air...anyway, where is Sarah?" Sherlock heard Scarlett speak as he walked up the stairs and then saw she was sat on the stool he often occupied when working as John leant across the way from her, resting on the worktop, clearly any earlier implications he had shown Scarlett had been rejected now.

"She went home. She has to go to work later on...oh...here he is. The wanderer returns," John spoke and Sherlock rolled his eyes as he removed his coat and placed it onto the back of the chair.

"I have not seen you in a while," Sherlock simply said. "And did I hear correctly about the blonde staying over last night?"

"Sarah did stay over, yes," John said.

"I should have left my human eyes in the fridge," he grunted and John rolled his eyes.

"Sherlock!" Scarlett snapped. "John's offered to take us out for dinner tonight anyway."

"Because that wouldn't look odd," Sherlock commented.

"What?" Scarlett replied.

"Polyandrous relationship and all that...like my mother said."

"Am I supposed to even know what you're going on about?"

"No," Sherlock simply replied and stood up quickly and began his lie. "I can't come out tonight anyway. I need to see Lestrade about a case."

"Since when?" Scarlett asked.

"Since he phoned me two minutes ago."

"I never heard you on the phone."

"I was quiet."

"You must have been."

"I was."

"No need to sound so defensive."

"No need to sound so questioning."

"I wasn't."

"Was too."

"Children!" John snapped. "Honestly," he shook his head.

...

"Sure you don't want to come?" Scarlett asked Sherlock as she buttoned up her white blouse and tucked it into her skinny jeans whilst Sherlock remained sat on the bed, waiting for her to leave before he too did the same thing.

"I'm sure. I shall be meeting Lestrade soon."

"What's it about?"

"He wants me to help close up a case. Nothing too big," Sherlock lied and Scarlett nodded.

"So you'll be back tonight?"

"Should be."

"Okay," she slipped her black heels on and bent down to kiss Sherlock as he remained laid on the bed. Her blonde hair fell onto her face as Sherlock rested a hand onto her cheek and his eyes opened and watched as hers remained shut before he pulled away.

"You always go so red whenever we have physical contact," Sherlock grinned and she hit him lightly with her clutch bag.

"Shut up," she joked.

"Have fun," Sherlock said and watched as she left the room before he took to his own plan. Rushing into the living room, he watched as Scarlett tucked her arm into John's and the two of them walked down the street. A slight ping of emotion ran through Sherlock at seeing them so close but then he waved it off. They were nothing more than friends...although they would make an attractive couple he supposed. Pushing his body into his coat, he picked up the small bag of clothes he had stored in the kitchen cabinet no one dared to venture into and he locked up 221B Baker Street, heading for Heathrow airport.

...

"Scarlett and Dr. Watson have gone out," Irene Adler said down the phone, watching the flat and the couple walk down the street.

"Good," Moriarty replied. "And what of Sherlock?"

"He hasn't emerged...ah...wait...he's locking up now...and he has a small bag with him. I think he took the bait."

"Excellent. Make sure he catches the plane. I would hate for him to miss the grand finale."

...

A/N: Sorry I have not updated for a while but things have been so hectic this week and so Sunday is my day of rest and I thought I would entice you all with another chapter! Thank you to The Cool Cleopatra and zenstarrflower who reviewed my previous chapter and please do review and let me know what you think is going to happen!


	16. Chapter 16

"It's nice to be able to have a conversation with you without Sherlock jumping down my throat," John spoke as he and Scarlett walked down Baker Street and Scarlett smiled over at him.

"Are you implying something about my boyfriend John?" she teased him and he chuckled.

"Possibly," John whispered and as soon as they turned the corner Scarlett dropped her hand from his arm and held onto his hand tightly, stopping him from moving as she hid around the corner of Baker Street and John simply looked at her with a raised brow.

"Scarlett...what are you doing?" he wondered and she looked at him for a brief moment before looking back around the corner.

"He's not going to Lestrade," Scarlett declared. "He lied to me."

"Why would he do that?" John pondered.

"Because in his own odd way he is trying to protect me from something...and I'll give you one guess as to what that something is," Scarlett said and John huddled his body closer to hers, poking his head around the corner as his chin rested on Scarlett's golden curls.

"Moriarty?" John used up his guess.

"Exactly...he wasn't on the phone earlier...something is going on...and I don't know what John, but I know it isn't good."

"Why wouldn't he tell you or me about it though?" John asked.

"Because this is something big."

"He's there," John hissed and saw Sherlock jump out of 221 B with a bag on his shoulder as he hailed a cab quickly and climbed into it.

"When does Sherlock take a bag anywhere?" Scarlett asked and she pulled her BlackBerry out and began to scroll through her address book.

"He never takes a bag anywhere," John said.

"Exactly," Scarlett replied and placed her phone to her ear as it began to ring and Sherlock picked up after the sixth ring.

"Scarlett," Sherlock spoke as he sat in the back of the cab.

"Are you still in the flat?" she asked him.

"No. I'm on my way to Lestrade...why do you ask?"

"I just thought I had left my straighteners on and I wouldn't want to burn down the flat...John and I shall go back and have a look. When did you leave?"

"Soon after you. And there is no need to go back. You turned them off," he promised her.

"You sure?"

"I know you did Scarlett. Now I have to go...I shall see you later," he said.

"Bye Sherlock," Scarlett replied and he hung up on her, settling himself back down in the cab on the plush tatty seat.

"He maintains the story that he is off to Lestrade," Scarlett replied.

"And do you believe him?" John asked, the two of them resting against the brick wall as Scarlett simply shook her head.

"I told him not to keep secrets from me...I begged him not to..."

"He might not be," John tried to be optimistic but Scarlett shook her head.

"I'm calling Lestrade," Scarlett said and began to phone the Detective Inspector, smiling politely as she spoke on the phone with him and then hung up quickly as she looked at John and placed her bottom lip over her top and simply shook her head.

"He's not with Lestrade...what do we do John?" she worried. "Where has he gone?"

"I don't know Scarlett," John simply said. "Phone him again."

"He won't tell me," Scarlett replied. "He'll think I'm being paranoid and come up with some lie again."

"At the moment you're not acting like you're in a relationship with him," John told her honestly.

"I know what he's like John...he does stupid things to keep me safe and then he acts all nonchalant when he has done them," Scarlett hastily said and began to call Sherlock again.

"And you didn't leave the plug for the hairdryer on either," Sherlock snapped as soon as he picked his phone up.

"Where are you?" Scarlett demanded from him.

"In a cab," he told her honestly.

"On your way to Lestrade?" she played along with him.

"Ah," he simply said. "You called him, didn't you?"

"Where are you going Sherlock?" she demanded from him.

"You didn't trust me," Sherlock stated.

"And apparently I have good reason not to!" she yelled down the phone, attracting stares from some passersby.

"You checked up on me like a child Scarlett," Sherlock replied.

"And you lied to me! You stood there and looked me in the eyes and lied to me!"

"It's for your own good," Sherlock assured her.

"I shall be the one to decide what is good for me," she growled. "Not you."

"I know best," he told her.

"No you don't...not all the time...where are you going Sherlock?"

"I'm going away for a few days."

"Where?"

"I can't tell you," he said and the cab drew to a halt and Sherlock climbed out, quickly paying the cab driver before rushing through the terminal, not wanting to miss his flight.

"Don't do this Sherlock...it is Moriarty, isn't it?"

"Who else?" Sherlock simply replied.

"God damn it Sherlock I need to know where you are!" Scarlett yelled. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"I doubt that," he assured her. "Just go back to the flat. I will be back in a few days."

"I'll find you," she swore. "You're not doing this alone."

"I have to," he said. "You were never supposed to get involved in anything like this...ever since we met I have brought you into all my trouble...and now it stops."

"That was months ago Sherlock!" she shouted and John saw she was beginning to cry as he took her into his arms and she remained on the phone. "I never wanted the risk...but...it allowed me to be with you Sherlock...and I love you."

"Loving me is dangerous Scarlett. And I don't want you to be put in any more danger...that's why I'm going alone. For once, do as I ask you and stay with John. I'll be back soon," and with that Sherlock hung up his phone and Scarlett looked at her screen as the call was disconnected. She tried to call back again but it went straight to voicemail.

"Did he say where he was going?" John asked her and she stepped back in his arms and she shook her head.

"He was on the move...he paid the cab fare and left..."

"Were there any recognisable sounds in the background?" John asked her. "Anything which sounded remotely like it belonged in a certain area?"

"I don't know..." Scarlett wiped her eyes and began to think about the call.

"Just take your time," John urged her. "No rush."

"There was a ding noise in the background...and then a woman...she mentioned something about the 36 something to Budapest..." Scarlett suddenly said.

"Budapest?" John asked and they suddenly heard a noise in the sky and the two of them looked up to see a plane fly through the air and pass over them before looking back into each other's eyes.

"He's at the airport," John stated. "Why else would he have a bag with him? Why else would he be going away for a few days?"

...

"Sherlock Holmes," Scarlett snapped at the woman behind the check in desk as she and John held up the queue for people wanting to fly to Shanghai. She had been through most travel agents and they had told her he had not checked in at them areas.

"We're not supposed to give away any information on our customers," the woman said and Scarlett rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Tall man," she began his description. "He had curly black hair...pale...high cheekbones...wearing a smart suit with a grey coat and had a simple bag on his shoulder."

"That does ring a bell," the woman said and she suddenly giggled. "Oh yes...he was five minutes late...I wasn't supposed to let him onto the flight but he was very charming...and quite good looking."

"Where was he heading to?" John asked, seeing Scarlett's jaw set tight.

"Switzerland," the woman said. "He began to speak French which is one language of Switzerland."

"Thanks very much," John said and grabbed hold of Scarlett's hand before moving her from the queue as she looked at him.

"How much money do you have on you?" she asked John and began to open her bag, going into her purse.

"I have my credit card," he said. "I'll put it on that."

"I have my debit card," Scarlett replied and she nodded once. "We're going together, right?"

"I don't think I would leave you to do this on your own," John said and they began to walk to the small travel agents.

"And what do we do when we get to Switzerland?" Scarlett worried.

"We'll find him," John nodded. "We have to."

"And when I do," Scarlett said lowly. "I'll kill him myself for flirting with another woman."

...

Sherlock sat on the plane as it hurtled down the runway. Most of his flight was spent with his brain working overtime as the woman next to him attempted conversation but he ignored her instead, looking out the window into the night sky as they moved over clouds. It wasn't until the flight was nearly over when it became interesting as a woman walked past his seat and she tripped, dropping a napkin onto his lap before continuing her walk down the aisle. Sherlock looked at the napkin which had a simple place written on it along with a time.

_Reichenbach Falls_

_Six a.m._

...

A:N/ Reichenbach falls...know what happens there? Anyway...until next time my dear readers! Thank you to Che for reviewing and please do review!


	17. Chapter 17

"You need to settle down," John told Scarlett as she buckled herself in on the plane and the cabin crew began the run through of what to do in an emergency. Scarlett had been on the edge of her seat as she and John sat in the two seated area, her taking the window seat and John near the aisle.

"I can't settle down," she hissed, seeing how the night was well and truly upon them from the blinding lights coming from the maintenance team as they fuelled the plane next to theirs and checked its tyres.

"Well you're going to have to...people looking nervous on planes do not go down well," he told her. "Just...take my hand."

"Why?" Scarlett wondered and John simply sighed loudly, grasping onto hers as the plane jolted forwards.

"You're scared of flying, aren't you?" she asked him, seeing how his face had paled and his eyes were narrowed on the seat in front.

"It isn't...my favourite pastime," he simply said and Scarlett smiled over at him.

"We're all scared of something," she said. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

"I was a soldier for goodness sake...I was shot..."

"You don't need to be brave all the time," she replied. They remained in silence, as did everyone else on the plane as the machine stopped suddenly on the runway and then began to hurtle down it at full speed. John's face scrunched up until they came to a constant speed and he began to relax, nodding at Scarlett before releasing her hand.

...

It was five in the morning as Sherlock stood at the bottom of the Reichenbach Falls, listening on as the sound of sloshing water fell into the pool at the bottom of one of the fall. Sherlock looked into the morning sky and dumped his bag on the ground. He didn't think he would need it for what he was to face. He knew he was early but he needed time to contemplate what was going on...why he was at the Falls...and what Scarlett was doing. He sighed once and looked up to the sky, his eyes going wide at the thought. Suddenly, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he pulled it out, noticing the caller ID.

"Switzerland?" she spoke as soon as he answered. "Why are we in Switzerland?"

"We?" Sherlock raised a brow.

"You didn't just think John and I would let you run off and we would sit at home and do nothing, did you?" Scarlett snorted and stood outside the airport, hearing the noise of running water in the background with Sherlock.

"That was the hope," he simply said. "Although I must have been dim if I thought you were planning on obeying my orders."

"You were dim. And where are you?"

"Good try," Sherlock said. "But you've already come too far and I don't plan to let you come any further. This is between Moriarty and I."

"I'm involved too," she protested.

"No. You're not. Goodbye Scarlett," Sherlock said. "I truly do want the best for you...and as long as Moriarty is here then I am not that."

"No!" Scarlett snapped but he had hung up on here. "And I don't appreciate you flirting with other women!" she yelled down the phone to him, knowing he couldn't hear but it made her feel slightly better to do it.

"Did he say where he was?" John asked her and she shook her head.

"But there was running water...like a waterfall..." Scarlett said. "Come with me," and then she began to walk off in the direction of the taxi rank, stopping quickly and knocking on the glass to one of the cabs. He lowered the window and raised a brow at her whilst Scarlett tried to remember some of her senior school French.

"Excusez moi...mais pouvez vous me dire..." she struggled and the man simply just smiled at her and patted her hand which was resting on his door.

"I speak English," he assured her with a French accent and Scarlett sighed.

"Oh thank God," she said. "I'm wondering if there are any waterfalls around here?"

"Waterfall?" he checked and she nodded and he thought for a moment. "Many tourists like Reichenbach Falls...oui?"

"It's all we have to go on..." John said when Scarlett looked at him warily and she nodded.

"Can you take us there?" she asked.

"Oui...of course...oui..." he promised them and they jumped in the cab.

...

Sherlock stood on the ledge, looking down at the running water. It was so close to him it was slightly surreal. Sherlock slowly turned around and looked into the eyes of his nemesis, the water splashing up and slightly wetting him.

"You came," George observed.

"Well observed," Sherlock said back. "Now what is so important that you have to drag me out to Switzerland?"

"I needed to get you out of London...you were far too well known there..."

"And I'm not in Switzerland," Sherlock replied back. "So why not ask me to go somewhere else?"

"My brother and I used to come here a lot you see," George walked along the edge, moving past Sherlock as the consulting detective remained stuck to the ground.

"A fitting place to kill me then?" Sherlock asked and George chuckled, the two men back to back.

"I thought so," he said honestly and turned around, drawing his gun from his pocket as he did so, pointing it at Sherlock who in turn had his own gun pulled from his pocket, pointing it at Moriarty also.

"Seems like we have a dilemma," Sherlock said.

"I think it is quite easy...no dilemma involved," George replied cockily.

"Well I don't plan to lower the gun," Sherlock growled. "I want you dead."

"So we both want the same thing...murder..." George's eyes went wide and Sherlock narrowed his.

"I want you out of my life."

"Do you know why I only left you one plane ticket?" George asked.

"Enthral me," Sherlock pleaded, sounding anything but ready to be entertained.

"Because I wanted to kill you with you knowing what I plan to do to your dear Scarlett," Moriarty said lowly. "I want you to know how I'm going to go back to London and take her somewhere secret...slowly torture her...having her beg out for you...begging to join you...I want her to suffer like you are doing now."

Sherlock remained silent for a moment, his face flushing red as he listened to the man.

"To have her scrawny little body be mine...is she any good Sherlock? She looks like she has a lot of stamina...I'll show her a real good time...please her like you couldn't."

And with that, Sherlock lashed out, dropping his gun onto the rock ledge, his bare hands going around Moriarty's throat as the other man dropped his gun over the edge of the ledge and Sherlock slammed his body against the wall on the small ledge, enjoying the sound of the man gasping for breath. He wasn't going to let him lay a finger on her. Not if he had anything to say about it. As soon as Sherlock had him pinned, he felt something connect with his groin and he released the hold on Moriarty and the other man moved quickly, pushing Sherlock closer to the edge, nearly causing him to lose his balance as he did so.

"Sherlock!" a sudden voice screeched and Sherlock shut his eyes as he fought for his place on the ledge with Moriarty. Sherlock paled once again and toppled backwards, the only thing holding him was George, keeping his hands on the end of his scarf.

"She's come to watch you die...how touching..." he spat.

"Don't..." Sherlock said, his upper body falling back.

"No!" she yelled. "Leave him alone! Sherlock!"

Scarlett sobbed uncontrollably as she stood on the flat ground, John holding her in his arms as they watched Sherlock, knowing there was nothing they could do.

"Leave him alone?" George raised his brow. "Always do as the lady orders...it's been nice seeing you Sherlock."

Scarlett and John watched on in horror as Sherlock was released and his arms swing around, trying to keep himself balancing but failing as Moriarty pushed him from the ledge.

"No!" Scarlett yelled and saw his grey coat flare out behind him as he disappeared into the waterfall. She tried to push John from her, wanting to run forward but John wouldn't let her go as they saw no Sherlock emerge from the crystal clear water.

"Get off me!" she snapped at John, rushing over to the pool of water which the fall fell into. The stream of water continued flowing down the hillside and Scarlett rushed down the grassland, dropping to her knees by the lake, looking for him as her eyes clouded over and John fell down beside her, noticing George still on the ledge, smirking triumphantly before he felt his blood boil.

"I'm going after him," John said suddenly. "Stay here!" and he began to run off as quickly as he could. Scarlett stood up and began to remove her coat as fast as possible, depositing it onto the floor before she removed her jeans from her legs and her flat shoes and then her jumper, leaving her in nothing but a white vest top and pants as she looked at the water. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the pool of water, fighting the downstream current as the water took her breath away. She placed her head under, looking for any sign of him but she received nothing. She coughed and spluttered as she came back up, the current too strong for her to stay under the waterfall.

"Sherlock!" she spat. "Sherlock!"

Scarlett continued her hopeless swim in search of him until she felt herself being whisked away by the current, her body submerging then coming back up as she lunged for the side to grab onto a piece of reed or anything which could stop her. As she did so, she felt a hand grab onto hers and she saw John, crouching near the edge, his hand extended to hers as her other grabbed onto his one and he pulled her from the cold water as she coughed and spluttered.

"You could have died!" he roared at her. "Jumping into that."

"Sherlock..." she simply whispered and John began to remove his own coat, wrapping it around her as he took her shivering body into his arms and rubbed her back to create friction. She buried her cheek into his chest, craving the warmth, but, most of all, she craved Sherlock.

...

A/N: What do you think? It's not the end! Don't worry! I think most of you will know what is going to happen...well I hope you do! Thank you to Katina and Arreis for reviewing and I have just seen Che review again! Thank you!


	18. Chapter 18

"They said that they have not seen any sign of him," John told Scarlett as soon as he emerged from the scene which was covered in tape, divers were going into the water but they had found nothing. Scarlett was sat on the back step of an ambulance with a thick blanket covering her body as she felt John sit next to her.

"What do they think has happened to him?" she managed to ask John.

"They don't know," John replied honestly. "But the chances of...well..."

"Survival," Scarlett said simply, her eyes were glistening with tears but she was not allowing them to fall out, not when she knew it wasn't over. Her voice was small and quiet but she wasn't croaky like she had been. An hour had passed and she had refused to leave the scene until they found him, regardless of his condition.

"They want us to go back to a hotel...they're clearing the scene...they say there is nothing more they can do," John told her and felt the piercing stare of her blue eyes on his face as her mouth dropped open slightly.

"Nothing more they can do?" she spat. "They can do a bloody lot more..."

"No," John told her sternly. "They've done everything they can in there. The current is too strong..."

"They think he's dead. Don't they?" she checked and the fact that John couldn't even look her in the eye told her what they believed. Sniffing loudly, she nodded once.

"Okay...well...he..." she began to babble as John looked at her and simply hugged her awkwardly before she began to sob loudly and John rested a hand on the back of her head as a tear rolled down his cheek and onto her golden curls.

...

"Are you ready?" John asked and Scarlett emerged from the hotel room with her bag on her shoulder as she nodded. Neither one of them had spoken since earlier on in the day when they had been told to get some rest before catching a flight back to Heathrow. They didn't know what to say to each other. Sherlock's body had not been found and they had been told the chances of it being discovered were extremely slim. Scarlett couldn't believe he was dead. He was Sherlock Holmes...he was invincible and now he was gone. The two of them sat on their flight quietly, looking in opposite directions as other's on the plane slept for a while but they could not. Once landed in Heathrow, Scarlett saw a black car waiting outside with a very familiar figure stood next to it as he looked her boldly in the eyes.

"I heard," Mycroft simply said and his features set in stone as he opened the back door for Scarlett. "I shall give you a ride back to 221B Baker Street."

"Why?" Scarlett asked. He hated her. She knew that.

"Because you meant a lot to my brother," Mycroft spoke lowly.

"Fine," Scarlett replied and sat beside John on the ride back to Baker Street. As they pulled up, they saw Mrs Hudson open the large black door and Scarlett began to cry again. She would never see Sherlock come back through that door. She had taken the piece of wood for granted...presuming it would open constantly and he would walk back in, quickly taking the steps two at a time before walking into the living room, dropping his body onto the sofa and then complaining about the dullness of the criminal world. As soon as Mrs Hudson saw Scarlett she took the young girl into a large hug, making her bend over slightly to reach.

"Come on dear," she said. "Let's get you inside..."

"It's a terrible shame," Mycroft said as he and John stood on the street, watching Mrs Hudson guide Scarlett into the building.

"I agree," John said, managing to be civil to the Holmes brother.

"But...I heard there was no body?" Mycroft raised a brow.

"No," John said. "The current..."

"Ah," Mycroft replied. "Well...I shall see you soon John."

"Will you?"

"The funeral?" Mycroft raised a brow. "To be honest I wanted to know what to do about it today but she seems to upset to discuss it."

"Sherlock has been gone for just over a day," John hissed. "Now is not the time to discuss it...actually...just don't talk to Scarlett about it."

"Why not?"

"Because I can easily see her arguing with you on the matter...and she doesn't need that."

One week later

"You need to eat," John told her, moving out into the living room to see her on the spot she had been occupying for several days. Her hair was in a messy bun and she wore Sherlock's purple shirt on her body, taking in the remaining scent of him.

"I'm not hungry," she muttered, wrapping her arms around her knees as she rocked back and forth on the sofa, looking at the box of nicotine patches on the table.

"You'll be ill Scarlett," John warned her but she shook her head.

"I don't care."

"Well I do," John replied. "And so would Sherlock."

His name stirred up a reaction in her and she began to feel her eyes water as John sighed loudly once and shook his head, moving into the kitchen.

"Tea?" he asked her and she jumped up from the sofa and rushed down the corridor, slamming the door to her bedroom shut as John placed the kettle on. Why on earth did he say tea?

...

The funeral of Sherlock Holmes was relatively low key. Only a few people turned up, Lestrade included, along with Sebastian who he had known at university. Of course, Mycroft and his mother were sat at the front whilst Scarlett and John sat the other side, a few rows down where they could hear the sniffling of Molly. Scarlett remained emotionless through the whole thing, her eyes staring at the box which she knew to be empty. It had a ring of large and extravagant flowers which were provided for by the Holmes family. They had paid for the whole service after Scarlett had said she would help. But her money went towards nothing. They said that they did not want to deprive her and in doing so give Sherlock a simply mediocre sending off. Scarlett had been fuming at first but then Violet Holmes had laid into her.

"Are you ready?" John asked her and they stood up at the end of the service and began to move out from the simple church and into the graveyard, following behind the carrying of the coffin.

"You should count yourself lucky that I even invited you," Violet Holmes hissed as she walked beside Scarlett with Mycroft holding her arm, tight lipped.

"I loved your son," Scarlett said. "And I still do...and if you can't accept that fact then I really do fail to care."

"Sherlock would never love someone like you...you're rude and arrogant. My son was a charming young man."

"I know your son was a gentleman," Scarlett hissed. "And he did love me...you don't know me at all so just stop making assumptions!"

"Scarlett," John rested a hand onto her arm as they watched the coffin being lowered and he dragged her away from Violet Holmes before she created a scene. As the congregation began to leave, Scarlett placed the single rose she had been holding and dropped it onto the coffin, watching as it rested in the centre. Rose as in their child.

"Come on," John said. "Let's go home."


	19. Chapter 19

One whole month had passed without Sherlock. And Scarlett didn't know how much more she could take of it. Being in Baker Street used to have its advantages but now it was like living in an empty shell. Everywhere she turned there was a reminder of Sherlock. Opening the fridge was a reminder of how he placed his human body parts in it. The bookshelves were full of his favourite books. A packet of cigarettes remained hidden in his bedside drawer along with his skull. John and Scarlett walked around the flat but barely touched anything. It was like walking on eggshells. Scarlett had managed to find a job as a receptionist to an accountancy firm whilst John took up a full time job as a doctor.

"I'm moving out," were the words which John dropped onto Scarlett one evening. She looked over at him as she finished the ironing.

"Moving out?" she asked. "When?"

"Tomorrow," John whispered.

"That's very soon..." Scarlett replied. "When did you decide this?"

"A few weeks ago," he was honest. "I just didn't know how to tell you."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't know how you would react."

"Are you moving in with Sarah?"

"Yes...she wants us to think about settling down..."

"That's excellent," Scarlett's voice was monotone. "Really good."

"You think so?" John asked her and forced a smile onto her face.

"Of course. You don't want to be living with me all the time. Do you?" she checked and John let out a nervous laugh.

"But will you be okay?"

"I can manage to pay the rent John," Scarlett assured him.

"I didn't mean financially," he said and Scarlett began to focus very hard on her ironing as she nodded.

"I'll be fine. I'm a big girl John...I have to look out for myself..."

"But if Mor-"

"He will kill me when he wants to John," Scarlett replied, not wanting to speak of Moriarty. "But he won't prevent you living your life for the sake of me."

...

Standing in the doorway of the living room was cold. Scarlett looked around the flat which she now had all to herself and pulled her cardigan tighter around her body before pulling her hair into a ponytail and walking around the living room. How many times had she moaned at Sherlock to tidy up? How many times had she wanted to get rid of all his clutter? But as she now looked at it, she found herself unable to even touch it, scared it may burn her. The bedroom was the same as it had been the day he had left. None of his items had stepped a foot of line and Scarlett wasn't planning on moving them just yet. She knew they were a constant reminder of him and maybe getting rid of them would help but she simply just couldn't do it. 221B was a reminder of him in general and with John gone it felt too lonely. Scarlett looked at the housing brochures on the table and began to search for somewhere else to live.

...

"And this is the lounge...granted it is not on the large side but it does have a nice feel to it, wouldn't you say?" the estate agent asked Scarlett as she looked around the neutral coloured room which was cosy but small.

"How much is it?" she asked.

"One hundred and fifty thousand...not a bad price if you-"

"I'll take it," she cut him off.

"Excuse me?" he blinked several times and Scarlett began to touch the curtains.

"I'll take it," she simply said.

"But don't you want to see-"

"No," she said curtly. She wanted the first house she had seen as long as it would take her from 221B Baker Street.

...

"Do you really need to leave?" Mrs Hudson asked Scarlett after she had finished snapping at the removal men to be careful with Sherlock's sofa.

"It's a nice house Mrs Hudson," Scarlett replied, buttoning her coat up.

"If it was rent that was an issue then I could always lower it?" Mrs Hudson promised her and Scarlett shook her head.

"I need a clean start Mrs Hudson...everywhere I look...he's..."

"I understand," Mrs Hudson rested a hand onto her arm. "But you must come and visit me."

"Of course Mrs Hudson."

...

Scarlett sat on the cardboard box which contained her cutlery and she looked around the open spaced living and dining area which was cluttered with furniture covered over by plastic sheets. There was boxes stacked high everywhere, on the stairs, on the floor and even on the furniture. After sighing loudly once, she stood up and peeled open the tape to the first box, beginning her task singled handed.

...

The first night in a new house is always a difficult task. The large red numbers on Scarlett's clock simply read three thirteen in the morning and she sighed loudly, sitting up and fluffing her pillows. Realising sleep was not an option, she switched her light on and began to move from her room which was still covered in cardboard boxes and then she took the steps, slowly and carefully as she placed her silken nightgown onto her body. But she froze when she heard a sound. She could tell there was someone down in her living room as she reached the ground. Looking into the darkness, she felt for the lid of the wok which was resting on top of a cardboard box. Her breathing intensified as she found the room to suddenly be bathed in light, quickly, she spun around and raised the wok, only for her wrist to be caught in a tight grip.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a deep voice warned her and the large pan fell from her hands and clattered to the floor and she snapped her wrist from his hold.

"You..." she breathed and stepped back for a moment.

"I had anticipated on you being asleep...I didn't want to disturb you," he simply replied.

"You're alive," she gasped.

"Yes. I am."

"You're really here..." she whispered, stepping closer to him and resting her hand onto his cheek as his eyes shut at her familiar touch.

"I'm here," he assured her and then felt her lips on his as she pressed her body closer to his, slamming him up against the wall until he managed to change positions and he had her pinned against him. Just as his skilled hands moved under the hem of her nightgown she pushed him away and then slapped him across the face.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked, grasping onto his cheek as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"You don't just waltz in here Sherlock Holmes and expect me not to react!" she yelled. "I thought you were dead! I've gone almost two months waking up at night expecting you to be next to me! Expecting you to be there but I knew you wouldn't be because you're dead!"

"Well luckily for you I'm not," Sherlock replied.

"I may change that," she huffed. "Where have you been? All this time away Sherlock!"

"I've been trying to find Moriarty." He said back to her, still holding his reddening cheek.

"And you couldn't do that whilst being alive?" she asked him.

"If he thinks I'm dead then he's not worrying about me...it's easier."

"He may not be worried but I was! Why couldn't you tell me?"

"Because you knowing may get you into trouble..." he said.

"You arsehole!" she yelled, her fists hitting him on the chest. "You completely insufferable, pompous, foolish, cocky, deceitful arsehole!"

"Calm down," Sherlock urged her. "It was for the best...and I have been watching you..."

"So you've been following me all this time?" she roared. "And you said nothing?"

"I've been waiting to see if Moriarty made a move...but he hasn't...but I'm close to finding him. Closer than I have ever been."

"Do you have any idea what the last two months have been like?" she asked.

"Miserable as hell by the looks on your face every time I see you," Sherlock said.

"They've been unbearable...and now you come back here...why now?"

"Because I was going mad without you," Sherlock dropped onto his sofa and rested his hands in his head. "I told myself that your life would be better without me...but my life is no better without you...selfish, I am aware."

"I told you that my life would not be better without you but you didn't listen!" she snapped. "Because I'm Sherlock Holmes and I know everything and everyone else can never compete with me due to the fact I have the IQ to rival Einstein himself!"

"Are you quite done?" Sherlock asked her.

"I've only just started," she replied. "How could you do this to me?"

"I thought it would be for the best," he replied.

"I love you Sherlock," Scarlett said. "But right now I want to kill you."

"I suppose I understand why you're angry," he stood up and wrapped his arms around her squirming waist. "But I did it for you Scarlett...to find him...to stop him hurting you...I would never have left you defenceless or let him get you...because I love you."

Scarlett had so many words running through her head that she needed to yell at him, but, when he said those three little words, what else could she do apart from kiss him?

...

Thank you to Arreis, All Cats Are Grey, milliebookworm and Che for reviewing my previous chapters! Two in one day for you now! Please let me know what you think! I couldn't keep Sherlock away too long ;)


	20. Chapter 20

"So what do we do now?" Scarlett asked Sherlock as she lay in bed at five in the morning, the only light was the one coming from the bedside table which was on the floor considering Scarlett hadn't put the cabinet for to sit on up yet. Sherlock looked into the girl's eyes as he laid beside her, his hand under her body, making circles on the bare skin of her back. Scarlett held onto Sherlock's hand as he lay naked beside her, both of them had calmed down and were now in contemplating mode.

"Are you not tired?" Sherlock asked her and she shook her head.

"Not one little bit..." she assured him. "I just want to stay here...with you..."

"I'm not going anywhere Scarlett," he promised her.

"Hmm," she mused, closing her eyes as he slowly and tantalisingly kissed her. His touch was so light she was unsure as to if he were even kissing her or not.

"I have to go again Scarlett," Sherlock whispered. "But I'll come back."

"You said that last time."

"And did I not come back?"

"After two months."

"I still came back."

"Not the point."

"I think it is the point."

"Anyway," Scarlett ended the conversation. "Why do you have to go?"

"Because George is still out there and I know where he went," Sherlock said. "And he won't shoot himself."

"True," Scarlett replied. "But he hasn't come for me yet."

"He's buying time," Sherlock said. "He wants to watch you suffer before he kills you."

"Well I've certainly put on a show."

"I know," Sherlock said.

"So how did you get back from Switzerland?" Scarlett pondered.

"As soon as I managed to crawl from the water I found the bag I had left and quickly changed before going to catch a flight..."

"And why does no one know that you checked in?"

"I used Lestrade's ID and incorporated it into my own ID...rather easy if I am to be honest with you. Security isn't difficult to get through."

"I still think you should have come to me first...how could you not Sherlock?"

"We're not going back onto this again Scarlett," Sherlock said adamantly. "I thought I was doing the right thing...but then I became unable to watch you so depressed..."

"And now you still have to get rid of Moriarty," Scarlett complained.

"I?"

"We then," Scarlett said and Sherlock's hand went onto her hair and he smiled sadly at her.

"You don't have to be involved," he promised.

"I will be," she said back. "So where have you been for the last two months?"

"Sleeping as and when I need to. I've been in a few hotels...the morgue..."

"The morgue?" Scarlett checked. "Why the hell have you been down there?"

"Because I have been working in the lab at night when no one can find me...can you I imagine Molly's reaction if she went down there," Sherlock frowned and shook his head. "No, it is best to go when no one is looking."

"Dear God," Scarlett complained. "So when do we tell people that you're not dead?"

"As soon as I get rid of Moriarty," Sherlock replied.

"But we can tell John?" Scarlett checked and Sherlock pursed his lips.

"I suppose," he trusted his friend and he knew he would not say a word to another soul.

...

"You have got to promise not to freak out on me," Scarlett told John as she let him into her new home the next morning. She had called him on his way to work and made him come round to her home, not giving a reason as to why.

"I don't think that shall happen," he told her and then he went rigid. Stood in the middle of the room was Sherlock, his black curls dashing around his head as he unpacked boxes for Scarlett. He had his sleeves rolled up and his eyes remained focused on the box as he spoke;

"Good morning John," he said. "How's life with Sarah?"

"I am dreaming, aren't I?" John checked with Scarlett as Sherlock then looked at his friend who continued blinking.

"Odd thing to dream about," Sherlock commented and Scarlett shook her head.

"He's here," she replied.

"Well where the hell has he been for two months?" John spat and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"This really is becoming a tiresome story to tell."

"Sherlock," Scarlett warned him.

"Do you plan on staying here or moving back to 221B Baker Street now?" he wondered.

"Can you please just tell me the story!" John snapped.

"Fine," Sherlock replied. "No need to get so wound up John."

Two months ago

Irene Adler stood and watched on as Sherlock Holmes and George Moriarty fought on the ledge of the Reichenbach Falls. She made no move and did not even attempt to stop them as she heard Scarlett's piercing screams and sobs echo the air. She watched as Sherlock fell and then as George smirked down at John and Scarlett before moving from the ledge. She observed as the girl crazily jumped into the water, removing her layers of clothes as she did so. And then she watched as Sherlock climbed out from the water on the other side. Irene kept herself hidden as Sherlock picked up his bag and looked at Scarlett in the water. And then he simply left without a word to anyone. It took Irene a second to understand what was going on before she pulled her phone out.

"What do you want?" a voice hissed.

"Sherlock Holmes fell into the Reichenbach Falls," she said quickly, knowing her call may be traced.

"Excuse me?" the voice said. "I told you to follow him and Moriarty! How did this happen?"

"I was doing as you asked," Irene said back. "They began to fight and he fell in...but he managed to survive."

"And why is this news?"

"Because he hasn't told Scarlett he is alive. He's left her and John," Irene said and the man on the other side of the phone went quiet.

"Get on the next flight back to England and report to me immediately. Do not tell Moriarty of this either Miss Adler," he demanded from her.

"Yes Mr Holmes," Irene said and hung up before walking away, hearing Scarlett sob once again.

Now

"You work in here for long hours, don't you?" Irene Adler spoke as she looked at Sherlock in the lab. He was working on his laptop, trawling through his mail at the amount of cases people had pleaded him to take considering his website had yet to be shut down. He could have done that at Scarlett's home but he needed to get away. Her home was not 221B Baker Street. She hadn't answered him when he had asked if she was going to move in again and he didn't know if she wanted to. Then again, it would all depend on if Mrs Hudson had found new takers of the flat.

"Clearly," Sherlock drawled. "Why are you here?"

"George wanted me to ask you something," Irene drawled and Sherlock looked at her.

"And how does he know I am alive?"

"I can't withhold vital information from him," she shook her head. "That is just rude."

"And how do you know I am alive?"

"I saw you climb from the Falls," she shrugged. "And then you walked away from Scarlett...I told you it was not love you felt for her."

"Your opinion in invalid," Sherlock simply said. "I suggest you leave before she comes back."

"Where has she gone?"

"To the toilet," Sherlock said. "Now what does George want to know?"

"He wants to know when you plan to make a move," Irene whispered. "He says the suspense is killing him."

...

"It's scary how clean those toilets are," Scarlett said when she walked back into the lab and saw Sherlock sipping his coffee and playing on the laptop. Scarlett was refusing to let him out of her sight, worrying that she may lose him again regardless of his assurances that the thing she feared would not happen.

"Well we are in a hospital if you will," Sherlock said. "They are known for being clean."

"True," Scarlett nodded. "When do you think we can go?"

"Soon," Sherlock replied and quickly typed something as Scarlett sat on the work surface and chuckled to herself.

"What is so amusing?" Sherlock wondered.

"This was the place where you almost kissed me," Scarlett whispered. "For the first time."

"And then we were interrupted, were we not?" Sherlock asked her and she nodded at him.

"By a man wanting to kill us," she said simply.

"It seems every man wants to kill us who we meet."

"I blame you," Scarlett chuckled.

"Oh!" a sudden voice exclaimed and Sherlock's face fell and his eyes closed for a moment as Scarlett jumped down from the worktop and Sherlock stood up as he saw Molly walk in.

"Oh...my...God..." she took in Sherlock's appearance. "You're dead!"

"That's not a very sound analysis coming from someone who works with dead people all day Molly," Sherlock told her and she dropped the clipboard from her hands and onto the floor.

"But...a coffin...buried you...funeral..." she garbled.

"Clearly not Molly. I survived...I'm here...do calm down," he urged her.

"Is this a dream? This can't be real!" Molly shrieked and walked over to Sherlock and observed his face as he raised his brows, not believing she was coming so close to his face.

"You must be a ghost," she said and touched his arm, but, her hand did not come out the other side.

"It is real Molly," Scarlett promised her.

"I...no...you can't be here...I don't..." Molly babbled.

"She's almost as annoying as you are when you can't string a sentence together," Sherlock looked at Scarlett who rolled her eyes and Molly shook her head.

"I feel faint," Molly said. "He's back...from the dead...not possible..."

"Why don't you go up to the cafeteria," Scarlett placed an arm around her shoulders and began to lead her from Sherlock who still looked disturbed and over to the doors where she pushed them open, allowing the young woman to nod, not knowing what was going on. "And go and get yourself a nice cup of coffee and then Sherlock shall explain everything."

"Shall I?" Sherlock asked in a mutter as Molly disappeared and Scarlett shut the lab door.

"That was awkward," Scarlett coughed once. "But now she will blow your cover."

"The cover has been blown," Sherlock told Scarlett as she sauntered back over to him and he looked over her shoulder as she moved.

"Why?"

"Because Moriarty is at the door."

...

So three chapters in one day? I think that is all for today! Anyway, thank you to Arreis who reviewed my previous chapter and I put Molly in because I liked your idea!


	21. Chapter 21

"What do we do?" Scarlett panicked, looking at Sherlock as they saw George open the door and Sherlock protectively pushed her body behind his own, backing away slowly as she grasped onto his arm.

"Panic," Sherlock simply replied in a mutter.

"Oh Sherlock," George clapped once. "It seems that you are proving quite a pain to get rid of."

"I'm like a bad penny," Sherlock told him. "I always show up."

"Don't you just," George said, a twinkle in his eyes as he walked around the large white counter and Sherlock glanced over at the door, contemplating making a run for it but he saw two men stood at the door. Sherlock's brain began to work overtime until he saw them. The lighter and the cloth. Keeping Scarlett close to him, he moved around the room, the two men circling each other like lions would when ready for a fight.

"But I'm fed up Sherlock," George roared suddenly. "I am bored of the cat and mouse chase...to be honest Sherlock, I just want you dead."

"Don't beat around the bush," Sherlock grunted.

"Oh I won't."

"And so I have come to a conclusion," George said and went into his pocket as Sherlock fiddled around on the worktop, his hand hidden by Scarlett's body as he picked the lighter up and began to flick it until he felt the warmth of a flame. "I'm just going to shoot you."

"I'd like to see you try," Sherlock growled and he dropped the lighter onto the cloth. The fire began as George shot at Sherlock but he ducked it, grabbing the flammable liquid and pouring it all over the room whilst Scarlett continued to hide behind him and Moriarty couldn't progress any further, the flames roaring far too high in the lab for him to get past.

"What the hell are you doing?" Scarlett snapped at Sherlock as the heat became too much for her and she commenced coughing loudly. Moriarty placed his gun away and backed out the doors to the lab, looking on as Sherlock thought of his escape plan.

"Improvising," Sherlock simply said and began to cough, pulling Scarlett closer to his body as he did so, opening the red box on the wall which read fire blanket. He opened it up and placed the large gloves onto his hands, holding the blanket out he ducked under it, making Scarlett go with him.

"We're going to run through the flames," he told her and her eyes went wide.

"What?" she yelled. "Are you crazy?"

"Possibly. Now stay close to me and do not move from under the blanket."

"No," she grabbed his arm as he began to walk forwards; the flames continued their advance on the pair as Scarlett began her panic.

"What do you mean no?" Sherlock snapped. "Do you want to die here?"

"No...but I can't..."

"Yes!" Sherlock yelled. "You can and you will."

And with that, Sherlock picked the girl up around her waist, keeping them close together as he held her tightly in his arms and began quickly walking through the flames. There was no denying that the heat was intense as they moved and Scarlett began coughing loudly as Sherlock did the same. He mapped out the route he needed to take until he reached the lab doors and pushed them open, kicking them in one swift movement. Scarlett coughed loudly as he held onto her and they moved up the steps of the lab and onto the first floor where the fire alarm made a whirling sound. Sherlock placed her on the floor, removing the blanket from their bodies as he did so.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, his hand moving onto her cheek and wiping away a black mark as she coughed loudly and Sherlock shook his head, dust falling from it as he did so.

"I'm fine," Scarlett said. "We need to get out of here..."

"Not that way," Sherlock said, seeing how she went for the fire escape and he went for the stairwell.

"You want to go up?" Scarlett asked, hearing a loud bang noise come from the side of them, knowing the fire was spreading.

"Moriarty will be out there. If we go up then we can jump from one building onto the next," Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her up the steps, running as fast as he could. The alarm still continued even when they reached the fresh air and Sherlock looked at the building next to the hospital. He had to admit it was quite a jump.

"No!" Scarlett snapped at him. "I am not jumping that!"

"Well then if you look onto the ground you shall see George and his lackeys. Take your pick."

"I wouldn't need to choose if you didn't set the building on fire," Scarlett replied and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Now is not the time for your wittering. Trust me, it isn't as bad as it looks," Sherlock stepped onto the ledge, looking at the gap before swinging his body onto the building slightly lower than the hospital. Scarlett then stood on the ledge as Sherlock held his arms out.

"I'll catch you," he promised her. "You need to do it now Scarlett," he told her firmly and she simply just shook as he demanded this large task of her.

"I can't," she stepped back a moment.

"Trust me, you can," Sherlock said. "Just jump as high as you can."

"Bloody hell," Scarlett said under her breath and took his orders. She screamed as she felt the land from beneath her feet disappear and then she felt her foot fall onto the ledge but her other did not make it and she began to topple backwards.

"Sherlock!" she screeched; people below hearing a muffled sound as she did so.

"I've got you," Sherlock said, his hand grabbing onto her outstretched one as he pulled her back onto the ledge and then down on the rooftop where her legs gave out and she held onto him.

"You're safe," he promised her, kissing her quickly on top of the head before he took her hand. "Now we have to get out of here."

...

"Are you joking?" he snapped down the phone as Irene Adler saw Sherlock Holmes jump from one building to another and she shook her head, a smirk on her lips as she saw the blonde girl do the same.

"No joke," she assured him. "He's annoyed Moriarty deeply."

"I can imagine," the voice drawled. "I don't wish him death but if he refuses to keep his nose out then he may find himself dead anyway. Has Moriarty not come round to the proposal?"

"No," Irene said. "I have to go...he's not looking too happy."

"Does he know Sherlock got away?"

"I don't think so."

"Keep it that way. And tell him I shall be in touch soon...also tell him to go easy on my brother..."

...

"Hi," Scarlett said as soon as Sarah opened the door to her home to see the couple stood there. Sherlock held a bag in his hand as Scarlett had hers on her shoulder.

"Why are you here?" Sarah wondered. "Not meaning to be rude..."

"You did sound rude," Sherlock pointed out. "And we don't like this as much as you do."

"What don't I like?"

"Oh!" John suddenly said and appeared behind Sarah, pulling her back and allowing Sherlock and Scarlett in.

"John!" Sarah snapped. "What's going on? Firstly you tell me that Sherlock is actually alive and now they turn up on my doorstep looking like they need a place to stay."

"It's our," Sherlock piped up and Scarlett nudged him in the ribs.

"Excuse me?" Sarah asked.

"It's our doorstep. John does live here, does he not?" Sherlock raised a brow and Sarah glared at him but before she could say anything, John took her into the kitchen and began to speak to her.

"I don't think he consulted her about this," Scarlett simply told Sherlock.

"Obviously," he replied.

"You can stay," John said. "Just...stay out of her way Sherlock. And why do you need to stay here?"

"Because Scarlett's home is being watched and when you're wanted dead then being watched is not ideal," Sherlock told him. "And I don't plan to get in the way of your blonde bimbo."

"Sherlock!" Scarlett snapped. "I'm blonde."

"Yes but..." Sherlock garbled. "You're different. She's annoying. You're not as annoying."

"Before you two start an argument I'm going. The couch does pull out and there is food in the cupboards...not like being back in the flat," John mumbled.

"Do you have any tea?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't ask daft questions," John grinned at his friend who smirked back.

...

Thank you to Katina and All Cats Are Grey for reviewing! Four chapters in one day? Hope you like them and do review!


	22. Chapter 22

"God you're annoying," Scarlett commented as she laid on one side of the pull out bed and Sherlock on the other. He was laid on his back, his hands behind his head as he looked up to the ceiling, muttering to himself as he did so, annoying Scarlett who was physically drained and trying to sleep.

"God you're tetchy," Sherlock responded. "I'm trying to think of a way to save your life here."

"Could you do it in your head?" she grunted, turning onto her other side and moving closer to Sherlock who made no move and allowed her to steal some of his body heat.

"I could," he replied. "But I find it more productive to think out loud. It helps me."

"It also allows you to show off," she mumbled and closed her eyes.

"I was so close to him...no matter...I shall find him again...there's someone I need to see first though..."

"Who would that be?" Scarlett yawned, her head resting on his chest as he allowed his eyes to look down onto her before looking back up to the ceiling.

"Just someone in the underground world," Sherlock lied. "You wouldn't know him."

"Okay," Scarlett replied. "Can you go to sleep now?"

"I shall not speak out loud. How is that for a compromise?" he retorted.

"You never compromise."

"Well just accept the fact that I am doing now."

...

"Morning," Scarlett said when she woke up and walked into the kitchen where Sarah and John were making breakfast.

"Good morning," Sarah said, sounding chirpier than last night. "Would you like scrambled egg?"

"Go on then," Scarlett said, still in her pyjamas, her hair tied into a messy ponytail on the back of her head as she looked at the couple and then around the kitchen, smiling as she did so.

"Where's Sherlock?" she asked.

"He went out," John said. "Did he not tell you?"

"Clearly not," Sarah replied. "She's only just woken up."

"Good point," John mumbled and began to stir the egg.

"Did he say where he went?" Scarlett pondered and the two looked at each other and shook their heads.

"No. He didn't actually," John whispered. "He just said he needed to go out..."

"This is Sherlock Holmes we are talking about," Sarah said, her voice with a dark hint of something in it as the buttering of the toast seemed to consume her full anger. "He has a tendency to do things on his own and forget about other people."

"Sarah," John warned him. "He works better alone. That's all."

"Not all the time," Sarah replied. "He would have been dead if you and Scarlett hadn't have saved him when he had that bomb strapped to him."

"I'm phoning him," Scarlett suddenly made a rash decision. "I lost him once...I'm not losing him again."

...

Sherlock sipped on his tea as he sat on the edge of the waterfall at the Natural History museum. He held the polystyrene cup in his hands, his grey coat hanging loosely around him as he narrowed his eyes and looked at the faces in the crowds.

"What is this about Sherlock?" a voice asked him and Sherlock looked across to see his brother taking a seat next to him.

"You don't seem shocked," Sherlock simply spoke and Mycroft raised a brow.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"Well I'm supposed to be dead. Am I not?" Sherlock wondered aloud. "And after the reaction I just received from you then I can tell that you knew I was not dead."

"Ever the observant one Sherlock," Mycroft said, sounding less than impressed as he did so.

"Aren't I just?" Sherlock smirked. "How do you know?"

"I have my sources."

"And who are these sources?"

"They are hidden."

"Is Miss Adler one of these sources?"

"It is possible."

"So you bought her back?" Sherlock wondered.

"She's driven by money," Mycroft murmured. "Of course, as soon as she has proved her usefulness then there is a jail cell with her name on it...though she is not aware of this fact."

"And why is she to prove useful to you?" Sherlock asked. "What do you need her for?"

"That is all you shall be getting out of me Sherlock," Mycroft stood up, umbrella in his hands as he twirled it around.

"I will find out Mycroft," Sherlock warned him. "Make no mistake."

"The only problem is," Mycroft drawled, stopping and turning to face his little brother as he did so, "You'll more than likely be dead the way Moriarty is after you."

"Miss Adler told you of that, did she?" Sherlock asked and Mycroft grinned and shrugged before turning and walking away, wondering why Mycroft was being so secretive.

...

"I was worried sick about you!" Scarlett snapped as soon as Sherlock walked back into Sarah and John's home, his eyes narrowed in concentration as he continued to think and ignored Scarlett.

"You walk out of here and I have no idea where you could have gone! Do you have any idea how scared I was?" she snapped but he just brushed past her and walked into the kitchen, needing Ibuprofen desperately.

"Are you even listening to anything I say?" Scarlett asked him.

"Not a word," he said back.

"I quit," she raised her hands in the air in defeat. "Is there any use me even bothering to worry about you?"

"No," Sherlock said back.

...

"Sherlock knows you're working for me," Mycroft spoke into the phone as he sat in the back of the cab.

"And how does he know that?"

"He isn't stupid Miss Adler. But that is all he knows. Has Moriarty come round to the idea?"

"No," Irene said, walking down the pavement. "He says he wants at least one hundred thousand if he is to keep your dirty little secret quiet."

"That is unacceptable," Mycroft said. "That amount is too obscene."

"Well you shouldn't get yourself into trouble and then be blackmailed," Irene advised him which did not go down well.

"I should think you be wise to hold your tongue Miss Adler. You're treading in very deep waters."

"How I like it," she smirked.

"Tell Mr Moriarty that my brother is becoming ever more troublesome. He is intent on killing him and finding out about my private business."

"And by me telling him what do you want for the outcome to be?"

"At this moment in time I fail to care. I just need him to keep his nose out. One way or the other."

...

"What the hell?" Scarlett snapped as soon as she walked back into her home with Sherlock in tow. The two of them had gone back to the house in need of more basic clothes but what they came back to was a bomb site. The consulting detective looked around the room at the discarded boxes, piles of books, feathers and furniture on the floor but then he smirked, moving over to his beloved sofa.

"At least they had the decency not to hurt the sofa," he said, his hand trailing over the leather fabric of it.

"Sherlock!" Scarlett suddenly screeched his name. "Get down!"

But before Sherlock could even think of responding, a man behind him quickly swiped him around the head with the lamp end and Sherlock fell to the floor, his body falling to the ground. Scarlett looked as the man looked at her, his face covered in a mask and he rushed over to her. The blonde shrieked once as she jumped over her coffee table before he could make a move and she jumped onto Sherlock's sofa before hurtling onto the ground, just past his body. Rushing into the small kitchen, she looked for a knife of some sort but before she could open the door, she felt him around her waist, his hands snaking around as he did so. She screamed loudly as he dragged her backwards to the front door, before knocking her head on the banister, causing her to black out.

...

"Sherlock!" John Watson snapped when he saw his friend laid on the floor, his eyes closed and his chest slowly rising and falling. Sherlock groaned as John helped him to sit up.

"This is a mess!" a woman's voice shrieked and Sherlock groaned.

"Please tell me this is a nightmare," Sherlock said when he saw Sarah stood in front of him.

"It could well be," John said. "Scarlett's missing."

...

A/N: Thank you so so so much to all the people who reviewed yesterday! Che, eruptingearth, Borderline Sociopath, Arreis and Katina! They were all really nice to read and I hope you like the chapter! There shall be more to come soon but I have been snowed under with work today so not as many updates. Maybe there will be a chapter out later! In the meantime, do review!


	23. Chapter 23

"London is so beautiful at night...wouldn't you agree Miss Jenson?" a cold voice asked Scarlett as she looked onto the view of London through the glass of the London Eye. Somehow, he had managed to worm them onto the Eye, and that was how Scarlett found herself towering over the sights of London, looking at the lights of the city as she tried to calm her breathing. She hated heights. Moriarty had stopped the wheel from turning at the top, the light in the compartment was dim and it was only him, her and another man in the glass box. Scarlett had her hands tied in front of her as she looked onto the sight, feeling Moriarty's breath on her neck.

"There are so many secrets out there...so many people going about with their everyday boring lives...and you were one of them, was you not?"

"I still am," Scarlett said. "I'm not special...I'm just ordinary."

Moriarty breathed in heavily the scent of her mixed with her fear, moving his hand over her shoulder and pulling her long blonde hair behind her, his hand holding onto it as he stroked it almost soothingly.

"You may not be special," he whispered, "but your boyfriend most certainly is."

...

"He's got Scarlett," Irene said quickly down the phone, looking onto the Eye as she stood below it, managing to just see the lit up compartment.

"I didn't think it was in his plan to kidnap the girl?" Mycroft replied, rushing through the corridors to his office.

"It wasn't." Irene said, sounding slightly concerned. "But this way he will get Sherlock right where he wants him."

"He won't have Sherlock where he wants him until he is six feet under and in a coffin," Mycroft snapped, slamming the door shut to his office and looking out the window. "And how does he plan to lure Sherlock to him?"

"He doesn't want Sherlock yet," Irene said. "He wants you."

...

"Has there been a ransom?" Sarah asked as Sherlock took to thinking about where Moriarty could have taken his Scarlett.

"John," Sherlock muttered. "Would you shut her up?"

"Excuse me?" Sarah snapped. "I was only asking a question."

"A very dim one at that," Sherlock snapped, standing up tall, his eyes narrowing into hers as he paced the floor of the living room, stepping over boxes as he did so and bits on the floor.

"I was just trying to help," Sarah replied.

"Well your efforts are not needed," Sherlock said.

"Can you two pack it in?" John suddenly snapped. "Scarlett's life is in danger and you two rowing like a couple of school kids will not help!"

And then they remained silent. Sherlock pulled out his phone and began to quickly call Scarlett's mobile, maybe he would be lucky and she would have it on her.

"Mr Holmes," a deep voice chuckled. "How very nice to hear from you."

"Where is she?" Sherlock snapped. "If you've hurt her..."

"She's still here for now, aren't you sweetheart?" George laughed once as he remained standing behind Scarlett, her face pale white as George ran his hand down her back.

"I want to talk to her," Sherlock demanded.

"Later," George said. "For now I need you to get down to the London Eye...there is someone here who really wants to see you."

"Yourself?" Sherlock guessed and George grinned.

"Me included. But someone much more intriguing...don't take too long Sherlock...we don't have all day."

...

"Why is he here?" Scarlett asked George as soon as Mycroft Holmes stepped into their compartment and the Eye once again began to spin. The elder Holmes held an umbrella in his hand as he simply looked from George to Scarlett.

"What is this about George?" Mycroft pondered.

"Time shall tell," Moriarty promised him. "Your dear brother is on the way...and I have a rather interesting...well...game that I want to play with him."

"He shall outsmart you George. As shall I for that matter. I don't know who you think you are...summoning me here like this..."

"Don't get all high and mighty with me now Mr Holmes," George snapped. "Remember that you're the one who began this."

"Does anyone plan to tell me what the hell is going on?" Scarlett wondered and Moriarty walked back over to her and grabbed her arm roughly, pushing her to sit on the seat in the compartment.

"You just sit there and look pretty, eh darling?" he told her. "Brains are not your area of expertise."

"For once I can agree with you on that matter," Mycroft chuckled and George grinned back at him.

Scarlett huffed loudly and then remained silent, not knowing what to say in response to the two men. She knew something was going on with them and it intrigued her deeply.

...

"Your little boyfriend is here," Moriarty said as the wheel slowly turned and Scarlett looked down to see Sherlock stood with Irene Adler. Once the Eye stopped, the henchman jumped out and Sherlock climbed in, his pale features seemed even paler than normal and his hands were stuffed in his pockets as he looked at the three of them.

"What a morbid reception," Sherlock said simply and looked at Scarlett before nodding at her. The glass box suddenly jolted forward and began its move into the air once again as George started the conversation.

"I can imagine that you are rather lost as to why you're here, Sherlock," he said and Sherlock shook his head.

"No," Sherlock spoke. "I am confused as to why my brother is here though."

"As am I," Mycroft replied and narrowed his eyes at Moriarty. "Is it really necessary for me to be here?"

"I think your dear little brother should know what you've been up to Mycroft, don't you?" George grinned.

"Do tell," Sherlock pushed him as he began to walk up and down by the seat Scarlett was sat on.

Sherlock remained stood in one corner of the box and Mycroft in the other whilst Scarlett remained seated, feeling extremely sick at the height they were once again going to.

"I'm warning you George," Mycroft said. "You know that if he finds out then there will be consequences."

"For you," George said. "Not me."

"I'm not a patient man," Sherlock declared.

"Do you ever wonder why your little girlfriend here is always in trouble?"

"Because she is with me," Sherlock said and George shook his head.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" he spoke. "But your elder brother paid my brother Sherlock...he paid him...do you know what to do?"

"Do tell."

"Shut up!" Mycroft snapped.

"He paid my brother to get rid of her." George said and the words echoed around the room and Sherlock remained silent whilst Mycroft shook his head.

"Rubbish," he declared.

"And do inform me," Sherlock spoke, his voice low, "why did your brother also try to kill me? Why did he say that he only wanted Scarlett dead because he knew it would hurt me?"

"Because he couldn't exactly tell you the truth, could he?" George spoke. "He had to make up some lie but he did want to hurt you too...and as for him wanting to kill you...well...that was his own personal touch. Your brother never asked for that...then again...he never stopped it from happening."

"He's lying," Mycroft blurted out.

"The explosive in the building when he kidnapped Scarlett," Moriarty said. "Jim left her to be blown up...expecting you to follow him and she would have died, but you had to be brave and save her, didn't you? Then there was the explosive in the club...he didn't want her to die then but he wasn't that bothered if she did or not. Then at 221B Baker Street where you shot him...he had her at gunpoint, granted, he was going to make her kill you but that was a spur of the moment decision...could you not tell from the way he acted? He never thought she would shoot you and then he would have to shoot her himself. Then when he came back from the grave he only sent for Scarlett. He wanted to kill her and even though she had a gun he doubted she would use it, not seeming like a cold blooded killer. She was the target all along. The story was a decoy and your brother was the instigator. Jim wanted you dead from that night in the swimming pool...but the fact that he could hurt you via this girl was a bonus...it was a win win situation for both of them."

Sherlock looked over at Mycroft and searched his face whilst George did the same and Scarlett shook her head, unable to believe it.

"Is this true?" Sherlock asked and Mycroft remained silent. "Answer me!"

"You can't really believe this story," Mycroft shook his head, twirling his umbrella. "I mean...why would I want her dead?"

"I can answer that too if you like," George chuckled but no one paid him any attention.

"Why?" Sherlock asked his brother. "Why would you do this to her?"

"Because she is a liability," Mycroft decided. "Ever since you've been with her you've been a threat to yourself and to other people."

"That's a pathetic excuse," Sherlock hissed.

"No," Mycroft snapped back. "I find it a very good one. She needs to be gone because she is not supposed to be here."

"What?" Scarlett asked. "What do you mean I'm not supposed to be here?"

"You're not good enough for the Holmes family. Anyone can see that...mother didn't approve of you for a moment and-"

"So you've been trying to have her killed because she isn't good enough?" Sherlock snapped.

"Do you not understand the name Holmes, Sherlock?" Mycroft roared. "You broke mother's heart by going out with some common slapper...you left her ridden with pain. With Miss Jenson out the picture then things could go back to how they were. Easy...I could see Miss Jenson was becoming a problem to our family and to national security as long as she remained with you. And problems need to be gotten rid of Sherlock. As soon as possible."

...

A/N: All kicking off eh? Please review!


	24. Chapter 24

"Well then," George suddenly clapped as the Eye stopped turning. It was three quarters of the way round its full cycle, stopping at quite some height as Sherlock remained glaring at his brother, unable to understand why he would do this to him. He loved Scarlett and would do anything to keep her safe, even if it meant going against his brother.

"Do you not wish for me to be happy?" Sherlock asked, ignoring George as he looked at Mycroft.

"Your life fails to be of interest to me," Mycroft said simply. "Scarlett is not part of this family and she never shall be Sherlock. It was clear you would not willingly get rid of her. Once you find something you want you're like a dog with a toy."

"Scarlett is more than that Mycroft," Sherlock drawled. "And if you can't accept that..."

"I can't Sherlock," Mycroft said. "Since she has been with you...you have a spring in your step. Your business seems to be getting larger and you seem to be getting into much more trouble. It also doesn't help that she is not good enough for this family...without her then you would go back to your usual un troublesome self and maybe not be as annoying...because a piece of you would be missing."

"You make me sick," Sherlock simply whispered.

"I couldn't help but think that things would go back to normal without Scarlett." Mycroft shrugged and turned his umbrella in his hands whilst Scarlett remained quiet, her eyes looking down at her lap as she listened to the two brothers.

"I was right about you," Sherlock whispered. "You really are dangerous."

"You shouldn't underestimate me," Mycroft whispered. "I'm better than you Sherlock...you should know that."

"Don't bull yourself up," Sherlock replied. "You know how mother hated it."

"I hate to interrupt this little family gathering," Moriarty said. "But I do have revenge to be taken."

"And what do you plan to do now?" Sherlock asked him. "Who do you plan to kill?"

"Time shall tell. But I do have some fun to be had," he warned them and suddenly the glass doors to the box opened. Sherlock recoiled for a moment before he rushed over to Scarlett and dragged her into his arms as she held tightly onto him. There was a large gush of wind which entered the box, the heights were terrifying and Scarlett looked over at Moriarty as he held a gun in his hands, twirling it round his fingers.

"What are you doing?" Mycroft snapped suddenly, his umbrella still in his hands as Moriarty chuckled.

"Having some fun," Moriarty spoke. "Let go of Scarlett."

"Over my dead body," Sherlock snapped.

"That can be arranged," he assured Sherlock, striding over to them and grabbing Scarlett from Sherlock's arms as he pointed the gun at her head, leaving Sherlock with no other choice but to let her go. Quickly, he strode over and stood by the open doors as Scarlett began to breathe heavily, her arm held by George.

"What are you playing at?" Sherlock roared.

"Just having some fun Sherlock," Moriarty said.

"Don't do anything stupid George," Mycroft spoke, walking into the other corner, whistling lowly as he did so. Scarlett began to hyperventilate as he pushed her closer to the edge. Scarlett looked below at the ground and then back into Sherlock's eyes, silently begging for him to come and save her from the nightmare she was trapped in.

"If you dare hurt her George then I will kill you," Sherlock promised him and George grinned, his head going slowly near to Scarlett's face as he rested his chin on her shoulder, his lips near her ear.

"Oh I do plan to kill you," he assured her. "And then I plan to kill Sherlock..."

"No," Scarlett replied, trying to wriggle herself from his hold.

"No," he spoke in her mock tone. "As if what you have to say will stop me from doing this."

"I may not have a say," Scarlett whispered. "But I don't plan to go quietly."

Suddenly, Scarlett raised her foot up high, kicking George in the groin and causing him to loosen his grip on her, allowing her to have time to snatch her arm from his grasp, pulling her body away as Sherlock jumped over the seat and held onto her hand, pulling her back from the open door as a shot went around the glass, not shattering the glass due to its toughness.

"Everybody stop!" Mycroft suddenly yelled. "Now...no one is going to die."

"That makes a change!" Sherlock yelled.

"I don't take orders from you!" George spoke to Mycroft. Sherlock looked around the empty space and wondered what he could do. How could he get out of this mess? Moriarty had one of his men controlling the Eye and they were effectively trapped.

"I think we should get back onto flat ground," Scarlett muttered, feeling extremely queasy.

"We could do," Moriarty said and Sherlock began his movement. He quickly snatched the umbrella from his brother's hand, pushing it outwards so it opened up. He heard Moriarty fire a shot at him as he chucked the umbrella at Moriarty, creating a distraction as he moved to the man. As soon as Moriarty pushed the umbrella from his view he saw Sherlock's fist making contact with his jaw, knocking him to the side, nearly causing him to fall from the open doors as Sherlock held onto his collar, keeping him upright.

"Talk about role reversal," Sherlock grunted. "Your life in my hands."

"Let him go Sherlock." Mycroft demanded.

"No!" Scarlett snapped at her boyfriend. "If you let him go then he dies...it makes you as bad as him Sherlock."

"He tried to kill us Scarlett," Sherlock spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes never leaving George as his face remained emotionless.

"I know that Sherlock," Scarlett whispered. "But...you could go down for this Sherlock...and I don't want you to go to jail..."

"He's tried to kill you Sherlock," Mycroft told his brother.

"Shut up!" Scarlett yelled at him. "You are in no position to speak to us about murder!"

"I'd listen to your little girlfriend over there," Moriarty said.

"And you can rot in hell," Scarlett said and she quickly picked up the discarded umbrella with her tied hands and using all her might she swung the handle end at Moriarty, hitting him over the head with the hard wood and causing his eyes to roll back into his head as Sherlock dropped his body to floor and Scarlett picked his gun up in her tied hands and looked at Mycroft.

"You can't seriously be thinking of killing me," Mycroft spoke and Scarlett backed away, standing in the corner opposite him.

"You've tried to have me killed," she repeated. "At least we would be even then, wouldn't you agree?"

"Sherlock," Mycroft looked at his brother who just simply shrugged, standing behind the blonde and looking at his brother, his face pale white and emotionless.

"Why would you even attempt to appeal to me?" Sherlock asked. "If Scarlett doesn't pull that trigger than I shall do."

"You'd kill your own brother?"

"How hypocritical!" Sherlock snapped.

"I beg of you not to," Mycroft said. "I apologise for all I did."

"You're a complete and utter coward, aren't you Mycroft?" Scarlett spoke.

"I'm better than you shall ever be," he declared and Scarlett shook her head as she watched him use his phone and quickly begin to text. All of a sudden the wheel began to move and Mycroft rolled his eyes.

"I plan to walk off of this alive," he told them. "And I also plan for you two to do the same."

"Change of tune," Sherlock said.

"And I expect the police shall be here in ten minutes or so, giving me plenty of time to leave the scene."

"And do you think we shall let you?" Sherlock asked him and the wheel neared the bottom.

"As I said, my word is law Sherlock," Mycroft spoke. "I shall leave you two be."

"And you think that will be the end?" Sherlock replied. Scarlett looked at the gun in her hand. She wanted to fire it so badly but she found herself incapable of doing so. Mycroft was Sherlock's brother at the end of the day...she just couldn't do it.

"Oh I doubt it will be the end," Mycroft smirked and he picked up his umbrella as the Eye stopped moving and he walked out. Scarlett and Sherlock attempted to follow him, Sherlock managing to keep up with his quick strides before he stopped dead in his tracks.

"So who do you work for?" Sherlock asked as Irene Adler held her gun up and Scarlett looked at the one in her hands before Mycroft snatched it from her gasp.

"Don't play with dangerous toys," he told her. "You could get hurt."

"You arsehole," she replied.

"Miss Adler," Mycroft drawled. "Stay here until the police come...tell them you thought you were doing the right thing in stopping these two when you saw Moriarty unconscious...they'll understand."

"Yes Mr Holmes."

...

"Looks like the police did not understand," Sherlock said as Irene Adler was being handcuffed and Sherlock untied his girlfriend as Lestrade apprehended Moriarty who was still in a daze about everything.

"Why are they arresting her?" Scarlett wondered as Sherlock's hands unwrapped the rope slowly form her skin.

"She betrayed Mycroft," Sherlock said. "He lied to her...she has proved useful and now she is to go to jail. He must have called the police and told them the whole story...after all...he does run the government."

"He's insane," Scarlett whispered.

"Couldn't agree more."

...

"Thank God you're okay," John gasped as soon as Scarlett walked through the doors at three a.m. along with Sherlock. The two of them were drained after giving statements about how Moriarty was captured. They never mentioned Mycroft's name once, Sherlock wanting to deal with his brother personally.

"I'm fine," Scarlett said and John let her go, nodding once as Sarah hugged her lightly.

"Good to see you," she said. "I've made the sofa bed up for you...extra pillows and duvets...and there is food in the fridge and make yourself at home."

"How hospitable of you," Sherlock commented.

"I was only meaning Scarlett," Sarah hissed.

"In that case how very rude," Sherlock said. "John may I speak with you in the kitchen?"

...

"Why did you ask John to go into the kitchen with you?" Scarlett asked Sherlock.

"I needed to tell him about Mycroft," Sherlock told Scarlett half the truth.

"Hmm." She muttered. "What did he say?"

"He wasn't surprised."

"Really?"

"If you look deeply then you can see that Mycroft is as devious as they come. I would say he is my arch enemy."

"So what do we do about him?" Scarlett asked, settling herself down on the makeshift bed whilst Sherlock removed his blazer jacket and sat on the edge of it, rolling his sleeves up.

"I'll deal with him," Sherlock promised her. "He won't be bothering us for a while."

"How are you so sure?"

"Because he's my brother," Sherlock said and suddenly he felt Scarlett's arms around his waist, her head resting on his back as she took in the scent of him.

"I love you Sherlock," she whispered.

"I know," Sherlock simply replied. "And I did worry."

"About?"

"Whether you would still want to be with me due to my family's attempts at assassinations."

"You're not like them," Scarlett muttered. "You may be related but as far as I am concerned it is in blood only. You are a true man Sherlock. You're smart, funny...you're everything to me. Your family mean nothing...and it is you I love. Not them."

...

"You would never guess what?" John whispered as he lay next to Sarah that night.

"What?" she asked. "I already find it difficult to accept that Sherlock's family are secret assassins."

"He asked me something...when we went into the kitchen," John said and he looked slightly giddy.

"What did he ask?"

"He asked me what the best way to propose is."

...

A/N: I have to say a massive thanks to all the people who have reviewed my last chapter! So thank you to Borderline Sociopath, I'm glad you like it and thank you for constantly reviewing! And thank you to Katina, I am also glad you like it and thank you for the really nice review! And then to milliebookworm and RLD Flame-point Callie-co for reviewing! So do let me know what you think!


	25. Chapter 25

"So why the sudden urge to propose to Scarlett?" John asked Sherlock as they walked in the cool spring air. John still wore his black zip up coat but Sherlock had taken to just wearing his blazer instead of his grey coat at that moment in time. The two of them wandered the lings of jewellers, not knowing the best one to pick for an engagement ring.

"Just because I have only told you about this plan does not make it a sudden urge," Sherlock told John. "I've been thinking about it for a while."

"And why?" John asked and Sherlock blinked a few times and then shrugged.

"I should suppose that marriage is something which can say that Scarlett and I are together."

"You are now," John pointed out.

"But I want it to be legalised John...and besides...this is something which Scarlett wants."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know my own girlfriend's view on marriage. She wants that relaxing lifestyle in the country with all these children. I just can't provide her with that," Sherlock shook his head.

"So you're giving her the next best thing?" John checked and then he chuckled in disbelief. "You're compromising with her!"

"Pardon?" Sherlock stood still for a moment and looked on as John bounced on the balls of his feet and Sherlock simply furrowed his brows.

"You're basically giving Scarlett something she wants in return for not wanting to give her a family," John spoke as if it were obvious and Sherlock looked blankly at him.

"And why would you think that?" he raised a brow.

"Because you're manipulative and always get what you want," John clarified and Sherlock couldn't help but grin and nod.

"That is true...but that is not the reason as to why I am proposing."

"Oh?" John asked.

"Marriage is something which is very traditional John. It is something which happens between a man and a woman when they love each other and want to be with each other for life. I can't imagine being with anyone else but Scarlett and for the last few months I have almost lost her and she has managed to put up with me. I think nearly dying makes you realise that you want to speed things up in life," Sherlock informed his friend and they began to peer into the window of a jeweller again as John remained silent at what Sherlock had told him.

"That's...deep...very deep Sherlock," John said.

"Well I'm not shallow," he replied. "And besides...I want people to see that ring on her finger and realise that she is taken. And do you want to know the best apart about it?"

"Do tell."

"She's mine," Sherlock grinned and John chuckled.

"I didn't think being tied to someone was your type of thing."

"We're not going to be bound to each other, are we John?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I just want to legally be together."

"And none of this is to do with the fact that Mycroft hates her?" John raised a brow. "You're not doing this to spite him?"

"I'm not that low John," Sherlock said. "Although you make an excellent point...I don't think Scarlett would want to invite him."

"I'm pretty sure she wouldn't," John muttered and then pointed at a ring in the window. "What about that one?"

"That's nice...a little flashy," Sherlock said and then he saw it. On the bottom row of the line of rings it sat proudly, looking up at him and he nodded once, moving into the shop without showing John it. Once inside, he felt the cool breeze of the air conditioning and his feet stepped into the plush carpet as a large circular counter stood in the middle of the room, men and women finely dressed in their uniform as they showed people sat on stools the items.

"Hi there!" a chirpy voice spoke and Sherlock looked at the woman as she appeared to have jumped out of nowhere.

"Good afternoon," Sherlock said politely. "I was wondering if I could take a look at the ring on slide number thirteen?"

"You may do," she said and looked at John and then back to Sherlock.

"Are you planning on using it for an engagement?" she asked them and began to go round the back, finding out the cushioned slab to take to the counter as Sherlock and John followed her.

"Yes," Sherlock spoke.

"And have you set a date?" she wondered and Sherlock looked at John who simply shrugged.

"Yet to decide," John answered when it was clear Sherlock wasn't planning on answering.

"Oh right," she said. "So how long have you known each other?"

"How is that relevant?" Sherlock muttered, following John as the woman led them to the counter.

"Are you blind?" John asked him.

"No my vision is perfectly fine, thank you very much," Sherlock spat out.

"It's not...me and him..." John explained as the woman stood behind the counter, raising an eyebrow as Sherlock and John stood the other side of the glass.

"Sorry?" she asked, not understanding.

"We're not gay," John sighed and the woman blinked a few times and shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said with a laugh whilst Sherlock looked quite un amused. "It's just that we have many people who come in here and...well...I presumed wrong..."

"Apparently so," Sherlock drawled and he looked at the ring and pointed to it, allowing the woman to remove it from its place whilst John tried to cool down his reddening cheeks and Sherlock picked the silver band up and admired it.

"It's a square step cut," she spoke. "It's from our exclusive range and of course, Tiffany's is only the best...it is a distinct diamond which is exquisitely cut and shaped in a square, layered slightly, as you shall notice and the band which it sits on is silver."

"It's really nice," John said as Sherlock set it down and looked at it, a small grin seeping onto his face.

"How much is it?" he wondered.

"Five thousand and five hundred pounds," she spoke and Sherlock nodded.

"That shall suffice."  
>...<p>

"Five grand!" John exclaimed as Sherlock carried the small bag in his hand, walking back to his true home with John.

"Don't forget the five hundred pounds," Sherlock said and John shook his head, raising his hand to his temple and rubbing it.

"How did you even afford that? Your card didn't even melt when you paid for it!"

"Cards don't melt John..."

"It is a figure of speech."

"An odd one," Sherlock muttered. "And I am a Holmes, John...even thought my family may hate me I still carry some of their money. Father made sure to that before he died."

"And you just blew it all on a ring!"

"Is she not worth it?" Sherlock asked John.

"What?" John asked.

"Is Scarlett not worth that amount of money after all she has been through?" Sherlock pondered.

"Well...yes...I mean...of course she is-"

"Then this conversation is irrelevant," Sherlock stated. "And I do feel for you."

"Why?" John wondered.

"Women love to gossip," Sherlock said, reaching for his keys in his pocket and giving John the Tiffany bag, making the Doctor place it into his briefcase which he had taken after Sherlock had picked him up from work. "And once Scarlett tells Sarah how exquisite her ring is then your girlfriend may expect the same."

"Jesus Christ..." John complained as Sherlock opened the door to 221B Baker Street and he climbed up the stairs, dodging a few boxes before seeing Scarlett knelt on the floor, polish in one hand and a duster in another as she continued unpacking the boxes. Sherlock had been adamant that they return to Baker Street. It was the only place he considered good enough for him to live at.

"Where have you two been?" Scarlett wondered as Sherlock swept into the room and John quickly dashed off down the corridor, going to hide the ring in the bathroom cabinet for Sherlock to then go and hide it.

"John and I had some business to attend to," Sherlock said. "Drink?"

"I'll have a vodka," Scarlett mumbled.

"Bad day?"

"I didn't realise unpacking would take so long...and some of this stuff we could do to change...I was just thinking about redecorating actually..."

"As you wish," Sherlock said and flicked the switch to the kettle.

"Seriously?" Scarlett raised a brow.

"As long as I am consulted," he told her and she nodded.

"You're being very reasonable," she said.

"I can be when I want to be."

...

A/N: Thank you so very much to all of my usual reviewers last night! So glad you're still liking it! More to come soon I promise!


	26. Chapter 26

"And then push it to you," Scarlett urged Sherlock as she held onto the bottom end of the large cardboard box. Sherlock continued walking backwards up the steps, his eyes looking down at the box as Scarlett puffed and continued to walk up the steps slowly.

"And how do you plan to manoeuvre it down into the bedroom? We won't be able to turn it in the hallway..." Sherlock said and finally reached the top step and began to look at Scarlett who began to purse her lips in thought.

"We should go into the living room and then take it into the kitchen and then into the hall and then into the bedroom," Scarlett decided and Sherlock backed into the living room and the two of them dropped the boxed up bed frame onto the floor, leaning it against Sherlock's sofa. Sherlock rolled his sleeves up and clapped his hands once.

"Tea?" he asked her.

"Shouldn't we be finishing this off?" she raised a brow back at him.

"I'm parched," Sherlock informed her, panting for breath slightly at the weight of it as Scarlett pushed her hair back from her face and quickly tied it into a ponytail from the small elastic bobble on her wrist.

"You're just feeling lethargic," Scarlett counteracted. "Are there still no cases?"

"None whatsoever," Sherlock sighed. "There are cases but none of them are appealing to my highly intellectual mind."

"Oh," Scarlett simply said. "Well...I suppose you can carry on decorating if you get bored? I mean work is really taking its toll on me."

"I'm not that bored," Sherlock frowned and began to pour the boiling water into cups and Scarlett chuckled to herself and looked at the clock which sat on the mantelpiece. It read seven p.m. and Scarlett couldn't help but think of how odd this Friday night felt to her previous ones of going out with friends. Instead she was at her home with Sherlock assembling furniture.

"Should we go down and bring the mattress up then?" Sherlock asked her, taking a swig of his tea as she nodded once and they descended for the stairs once again.

...

"Well this is completely ridiculous," Sherlock spoke, picking up the wooden plank as he looked at the large white manual and Scarlett raised a brow at him as she sat on the other side of the partially made up frame, tucking her hair loose hair behind her ears and screwing in a screw as the consulting detective watched her.

"It's easy Sherlock," she sighed. "You just need to place each plank of wood between the two edge parts and then knock them in and I'll screw them in."

"But what are all these Part A's and Part B's about?" he asked her, his voice going slightly high pitched.

"They are showing you the pieces which you are in need of," Scarlett told him. "How can your highly intellectual mind not understand?" she teased him.

"My mind is not being worked as hard at this moment in time and so is not up to its best. And why are you so good at DIY?" he asked her and she chuckled as she focused on the screw and the screwdriver in her hands.

"I had a big brother Sherlock," Scarlett simply said. "And I've been living alone for a while...furniture doesn't put itself up...how did you manage before?"

"I don't deal with such mundane things like this," he said. "Why would I when I can have people come to my home and do it for me?"

"That's just lazy," Scarlett told him, standing up and moving over the wooden planks, picking another one up as Sherlock just sat on his knees and huffed loudly, feeling the box in his pocket. Scarlett knelt down beside him and he looked onto her focusing face as he thought how he wanted to do this. Did she want the table lit candles? The roses? The champagne? Did she want other people to look at her as Sherlock proposed? Was she an attention seeker when it came to things like this which were personal? No. Sherlock didn't want to do it like that. He wanted to propose to her in his own way, naturally and free from prying eyes where it was just her and him. How he liked it.

"Scarlett," Sherlock began but she remained completely focused on the task in hand.

"Yeah?" she asked, knocking a piece of wood into the hole.

"I have something which I want to ask you," Sherlock spoke and Scarlett looked over at him for a moment.

"What is it?" she pondered.

"I've been thinking of the best way to do this-"

"Oh God," Scarlett said. "Please don't start a sentence like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it normally means you're going to dump me or tell me this isn't wise or something silly along those lines-"

"If I promise you that I'm not going to break up with you then will you please be quiet?" Sherlock asked her and she nodded and looked down at her lap.

"Sorry...sorry...I just panic..."

"I've noticed," he said with an amused grin on his face.

"So what do you want to know?" Scarlett pondered and picked up another bit of wood, kneeling closely next to Sherlock as the consulting detective thought of the best way to propose to her.

"I wanted to know something important," Sherlock said as he went into his pocket and checked it was still there before standing up. He grabbed her hands and hauled her to her feet as she simply looked confused and dropped the screwdriver onto the floor.

"What's going on?" Scarlett began to panic slightly, looking at Sherlock's smiling face and his glittering eyes as he dropped onto one knee, doing what John said he should do.

"Sherlock..." Scarlett began to wonder, looking onto him as he produced the box from his pocket and Scarlett saw the Tiffany and Co. Logo sat on it and she placed her free hand to her mouth as Sherlock took her other one, holding onto it tightly. He was confident of her answer so why was he shaking? Her saying no had never occurred to him once.

"I would like to know if you, Scarlett Rose Jenson, would do me the greatest honour in becoming my wife." Sherlock told her and she watched as he opened the box and the diamond ring glittered as Scarlett looked at it and then back to Sherlock as he waited patiently.

"I am waiting for an answer," Sherlock told her, his face dropping slightly as her mouth parted but nothing came out. "Scarlett..." he whispered.

"Sherlock...I..." she stammered and Sherlock couldn't help but feel something inside of him. She was going to say no.

"Scarlett...just a yes or no would suffice," he pleaded her.

"Yes," she whispered croakily. "I...yes...just yes Sherlock!" she shrieked and the black haired man placed the ring onto her finger before he stood up and she looked at the ring before throwing herself into his arms and kissing him deeply. Sherlock chuckled to himself as Scarlett looked at the ring again, one arm still draped over his shoulders.

"This is beautiful!" she exclaimed. "It must have cost a fortune!"

"A gentleman never reveals how much a ladies ring cost," Sherlock replied. "Tea?"

...

"If you keep looking at it then you're going to get narrowed vision," Sherlock told her as the two of them sat on the sofa. Sherlock had his arm around her shoulders as she leaned over his body and examined the glistening ring and Sherlock smiled down at her.

"It's amazing Sherlock," she whispered. "I never thought you would contemplate marrying me."

"Why is that?" he asked, his hand playing with the white material of Scarlett's long shirt whilst Scarlett dropped her hand onto her lap.

"Because I just didn't...I didn't think a bit of paper would matter to you."

"Is that all you think marriage is?"

"Well no," Scarlett replied. "But I just wondered..."

"Well marriage is something important binding two people together. It is a traditional institute."

"I agree," Scarlett nodded.

"And you don't think the proposal was too shabby?" he asked her.

"It was lovely Sherlock," she said honestly.

"I just wondered if you would have preferred to have been at a nice restaurant..." he shrugged.

"Things like that don't matter to me," she shook her head. "As long as it is just you and I then I don't care for flashy things or expensive price tag...you asking me is all that matters. You could have asked me anywhere and the answer would still have been yes. But doing it here...just in the privacy of our home...that's enough for me Sherlock."

"Honestly?" he asked her.

"Honestly," she confirmed and then began to look at the ring as Sherlock felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he pulled it out, looking at the text.

_We need to talk._

_I know what you spent father's money on and we need to discuss this._

_Meet me tomorrow at ten a.m._

_A car shall be outside waiting to pick you up_

_MH_

...

A/N: Thank you to England's Rose, Katina and Borderline Sociopath for reviewing my last chapter! So he proposed to her whilst they were doing the most interesting things of putting a bed up! Anyway, do review!


	27. Chapter 27

"I know!" Scarlett shrieked as she dashed around the kitchen and John watched on, sitting at the table and eating his porridge whilst Scarlett poured orange into cups and buttered a plate of toast. "It was really, really, really sweet."

"Sherlock? Sweet? Same sentence?" John asked her. "Have you gone mad?"

"No John," Scarlett chuckled. "I'm just happy that's all...I mean...the ring is so nice John!"

"I can clearly see," John smirked as he adjusted his tie and leaned back in his seat.

"So the big question is what type of wedding do we want? I don't personally want a big wedding-"

"We don't know enough people to have a big wedding," Sherlock informed Scarlett as he moved into the kitchen and looked at his fiancée as he picked up a slice of toast she had made and began to eat it.

"Congratulations are in order then," John said, looking at Sherlock and Scarlett and then settling his gaze onto his porridge.

"I do believe so," Sherlock admitted. "Although the chances of her saying no were slim."

"Err," Scarlett said, moving over to Sherlock and tapping him lightly on the chest as she passed on her way to the fridge. "There was a moment when you thought I was going to say no."

"You had a momentary lapse in thought," Sherlock said. "I took you by surprise and you panicked."

"I could have said no," Scarlett said, placing the orange juice away whilst Sherlock shook his head.

"You wouldn't have," Sherlock yawned in a drawl. "And what do you have planned for today?"

"I'm going out with Sar-"

"I was asking my fiancée," Sherlock replied brashly and Scarlett shrugged.

"Is it too premature to go and look for wedding invitations?"

"Do we need them?"

"Well people need to know of the wedding."

"We'll text them," Sherlock shrugged and Scarlett scoffed.

"Are you having a laugh?"

"Do I look like I'm laughing?"

"We're getting invitations regardless of if only two people are to turn up."

"And who would they be?"

"John and Sarah."

"We need to invite Sarah?"

"Hey-" John tried to jump in but the two of them continued bickering like an old married couple.

"Well she is going out with John."

"That is an irrelevant factor."

"I don't think it is."

"Anyway," Sherlock spoke loudly. "If you want to go out and start searching for wedding stuff then be my guest."

"You want me to go alone?" Scarlett checked and blinked several times.

"John and I need to go and sort out suit fittings," Sherlock lied and John narrowed his eyes at the consulting detective who simply just stared back emotionless.

"Already?"

"Better to be prepared," Sherlock shrugged.

"Do you think Sarah would mind if I ask her to come dress shopping with me?" Scarlett asked John and he shook his head.

"She might be grateful," he said.

"Doesn't she get out much?" Sherlock asked snidely.

"Very funny Sherlock," John commented.

Scarlett hastily pulled her phone out and began to call Sarah whilst John looked at Sherlock with a raised brow and the detective finished off his toast and then sat down opposite his friend.

"We're not off for a suit fitting," John stated.

"Very good John," Sherlock said sarcastically, "your brain appears to be working overtime."

"Sarah said she will come with me," Scarlett said, slipping into her flat shoes and reaching for her zip up jacket as Sherlock simply nodded.

"Have fun then," he said and she bent down to kiss him quickly before grabbing her bag and taking off.

"So where are you going?" John asked Sherlock. "I know you're not doing anything normal."

"Observant of you," Sherlock yawned. "My brother wants to see me at ten this morning. He said a car would be waiting."

"And Scarlett doesn't know of this?" John checked.

"Blatantly not considering I lied to her of my plans for the day," Sherlock said.

"You're getting married, Sherlock," John said, raising his hands into the air. "You can't continue to keep secrets from her."

"And why does she need to know where I am going?" Sherlock asked John. "She would only worry."

"I bloody worry!" John snapped and Sherlock smirked.

"How sentimental of you," he grinned and John rolled his eyes.

"There are people out there who like you Sherlock and don't want to see you get hurt," John said and stood up, dropping his cutlery into the washing up bowl. "Just remember that when you're out risking your life."

...

"Good morning," Mycroft Holmes spoke as soon as he saw his brother enter the car which sat across the road from 221B Baker Street. "I didn't expect to see you today."

"Why ever not?" Sherlock asked as he turned to look out the window instead of facing his brother.

"Because I didn't think you would come...before you seemed to not have an interest in my doings."

"That was before I learned you were trying to kill my fiancée," Sherlock spat out.

"So she said yes? How romantic," Mycroft said with a sarcastic smile whilst Sherlock looked at his brother who was also looking out the window before Sherlock turned back to do the same.

"And why did you want to meet me?" Sherlock asked. "What do you have to do with our lives now?"

"You're my brother Sherlock," Mycroft said. "Regardless of what you think, I do care for you."

"Do you?" Sherlock asked. "So caring means trying to kill your brother's future wife? That is a strange type of caring."

"Unique," Mycroft counteracted.

"Sickening," Sherlock said.

"Slightly harsh, Sherlock," Mycroft said.

"And what do you plan to do now?" Sherlock asked Mycroft. "Moriarty and Adler have gone Mycroft; they are in jail for the rest of their lives."

"But I'm still here."

"Unfortunately."

"And I'm here to tell you something," Mycroft said.

"What would that be?" Sherlock said and then raised a finger to silence his brother. "I know. The usual...stay away from Scarlett and I shall stop trying to kill her but that just isn't going to work Mycroft."

"I thought you'd say as much," Mycroft drawled.

"And?" Sherlock urged him.

"And I'm willing to leave her be if you break up with her...but if you don't...well...there will be consequences Sherlock...those which you shall not want to know of."

...

Thank you to Borderline Sociopath, milliebookworm and eruptingearth for reviewing!


	28. Chapter 28

Sherlock climbed out the car deflated after what Mycroft had told him. Looking down the street he remained emotionless, moving over to 221B and climbing the stairs, his mind not focusing on anything apart from the information which his brother had told him. Reaching for the nicotine patches he placed them onto his flesh quickly. It was surely a five patch problem which he was about to suffer from. Lying on the sofa, he allowed his thoughts to take over his body and he shut his eyes, not knowing what he should do for the best.

...

"When did you come back?" John asked Sherlock as he carried the bags of shopping into the kitchen and Sherlock remained calm, not moving from where he was.

"I am unsure," Sherlock said. "Time seems irrelevant."

"What's gotten into you?" John wondered as he heard his dulcet tones.

"My elder brother has rattled my cage," Sherlock said through gritted teeth and John opened the fridge and placed the milk inside before reaching for other dairy products.

"What has he said now?" John pondered and Sherlock tore the patches from his arm and chucked them onto the floor, standing quickly and pacing around the room, hands on hips.

"He's given me a legitimate cause to break up with Scarlett," Sherlock spat out. "And I don't know what to do."

"What reason has he given you?" John wondered, moving into the living room, intrigued by the sudden outburst and Sherlock shook his head. "But you can't seriously consider breaking up with her."

"Trust me John," Sherlock drawled, "I may have no choice."

"Well what can be so bad? I mean...you've put her life in danger before and stayed with her...what can be worse than that?" John asked Sherlock who went into his jacket pocket and pulled out a piece of paper and John began to read it, his eyes going wide.

"Is this real?" he asked Sherlock who nodded.

"So...what does that mean?" John wondered.

"It means that she's an illegal immigrant John," Sherlock simply whispered. "Her parent's visas to stay here weren't correct...Scarlett is not allowed to stay in Britain...she's from Australia."

"How did she not know that?" John asked. "A visa is a big thing."

"As far as she knew England was her home. Australia was just somewhere she was born."

"Why did you never mention this before?"

"She spent six months of her life there John," Sherlock snapped. "I didn't think it necessary to mention."

"Jesus," John whispered. "So will she be deported?"

Sherlock chuckled darkly, looking down onto the floor as he shook his head.

"If you think her being deported was the main issue then you are sadly mistaken. Something as small as that could be rectified," Sherlock simply nodded. "Mycroft managed to find a mistake in her visa and he's threatened to take her to court."

"What?" John gasped. "He can't do that...surely deportation is enough..."

"He's the government John," Sherlock replied. "He can do what he likes."

"And does that mean she could go to jail?"

"Possibly..." Sherlock mused. "But if I leave her then Mycroft said he will personally sort her out with a visa to stay here and she won't know any more of the situation..."

"Are you honestly considering this?"

"No," Sherlock stated. "I've considered it."

...

"Sherlock," Scarlett gasped as she climbed up the steps to 221B Baker Street and walked into the sitting room where Sherlock was stood by the window, his hand holding back the net curtain as he looked onto the street and spoke to her;

"I've been waiting for you," he said lowly and John stood up from the armchair he had been occupying and swept from the room. He looked at Scarlett and nodded seriously as her smile faltered and she removed her jacket.

"I went to dinner with Sarah. Hope you didn't mind?" she asked him and he shook his head, watching as cab drove down the road.

"No," he muttered. "I don't mind."

"Okay then," Scarlett said hesitantly and Sherlock took a deep breath.

"We need to talk," he replied and turned around to face her, managing to look into her large blue eyes which were full of concern.

"What about?" she asked in a small voice.

"Us," Sherlock stated.

"We're getting married?" Scarlett checked. "What more is there?"

"There's a lot more," Sherlock said. "A hell of a lot more."

"Are you...do you...want to call it off?" Scarlett stammered. "You want to call the wedding off?"

"Not just the wedding," Sherlock said.

"Pardon?" she asked. "Are you...you want to break up with me?"

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

"What?" Scarlett asked and something hurt inside of her as his eyes remained cool and calculate, burning straight into her. "Why?"

"Because we would never work," he told her harshly. He had to be harsh. If he were to be too kind then she would stay and refuse to leave him, but, if he were to be an arse then she would run miles to get away from him due to anger.

"When the hell did you decide that?" she snapped at him.

"This morning," Sherlock said and Scarlett shook her head.

"You only just asked me to marry you last night!" she roared.

"And then the thought of spending the rest of my life having the responsibility of a wife made me change my mind," he lied to her and she blinked back the tears.

"Are you serious?" she managed to ask him.

"I don't think this is a joking matter."

"You can't have just changed your mind like that," Scarlett clicked her fingers and Sherlock remained stood rigid.

"I did," he said. "It is for the best."

"Bullcrap!" she yelled at him. "I love you Sherlock!"

"So you keep telling me," he said. "But we're over Scarlett. You need to accept it."

"I can't accept it when you won't tell me the real reason as to why you're suddenly breaking up with me!" she bellowed. "Are you fed up with me? Has some new shiny toy taken your fancy?"

"No," Sherlock said through gritted teeth. "I just don't want commitment."

"That's not it," she shook her head. "I want the real reason!"

"Maybe I'm getting bored of you," Sherlock drawled, knowing it would hurt her and get her to leave. Scarlett looked at him with narrowed eyes as she pulled the engagement ring from her finger and dropped it onto the coffee table, allowing it to fall into his cup of tea as she glared at him.

"You're an arsehole Sherlock Holmes," she told him.

"I can give you money to stay somewhere-"

"I don't want your stupid money!" she roared. "I don't want anything to do with you!"

...

"So you've actually made her leave?" John checked as Sherlock stood near the window and watched the blonde wheel her case into a cab and Sherlock held onto the engagement ring in his hands, twirling it round.

"Apparently so," Sherlock's voice was croaky.

"And why couldn't you give her the main reason as to why you had to break up with her?" John wondered.

"Because she's risked her life for me before. She wouldn't have broken up with me and so would have ended up in jail...she doesn't need that..."

"And did she believe your reason as to why you broke up with her?"

"I think she was too angry at me to believe my reasoning."

"And what do you plan to do?" John asked as Sherlock saw the cab drive off down the road.

"Get her back somehow."


	29. Chapter 29

"And how do you plan on getting her back?" John asked Sherlock as the detective ran down the steps, opening the door wide and placing his keys into his pocket. John shrugged into his black jacket and followed, quickly closing the door as Sherlock hailed a cab and climbed into it, giving directions to Mycroft's home. The evening was dawning on London and the sun was beginning to set, blinding the occupants of the cab as they recoiled from it. How Sherlock preferred to winter.

"I asked what you plan to do to get her back to you." John informed Sherlock and he looked him in the eye and then turned to look out the window whilst John sighed and leaned back in his seat, looking out of the window on his own side.

"Of course you wouldn't tell me," John mumbled. "Because you're Sherlock Holmes...far too superior for everyone to know your plans...you like to do things on your own."

"Would you stop with your whining?" Sherlock suddenly snapped. "I've just had to break up with my fiancée and I do not take an interest into listening to your constant moaning and complaining."

John remained silent for a few moments whilst Sherlock went back to looking out the window before he took in everything which the consulting detective had said to him. He could have even sworn that he saw moisture in the corner of Sherlock's eye.

"I'm sorry," John said. "I realise...this is hard..."

"It's fine," Sherlock grunted. "Apologising won't make me feel any better."

"There's only one thing that will do that," John whispered, not meaning for Sherlock to hear but he did.

"And she's left."

...

Scarlett looked around the room to the hotel she would be staying in until she sorted a flat out. She had only brought her case full of clothes with her, figuring that was all she would be in need of. Slowly, she began to unpack, itching the finger where her ring had been sat, wondering why he had broken up with her. What had she done to him? What had changed since the previous night? She loved him more than she had loved anyone else and he knew that. He knew he had her in the palm of his hand and yet he had been able to break up with her. But the main issue which Scarlett had was that it was so random. Its randomness scared her deeply if she had to be honest. She hadn't seen it coming and she didn't believe Sherlock. She knew there was something deeper which he wasn't telling her. But she was going to find out even if it killed her.

...

"I had to get up and answer the door for this?" Mycroft raised a brow as he saw Sherlock and John stood on his doorstep. Sherlock rolled his eyes at his brother before pushing his way inside of the home.

"The walk will do you good Mycroft," Sherlock called out as he walked into the living room and settled down on the seating. "The exercise should help seeing as how you're putting on weight again, aren't you?"

"Losing it," Mycroft shouted back as he slammed the door as soon as John had walked in and the doctor made his way over to Sherlock in the sitting room, settling himself to stand near the fireplace whilst Sherlock sat on an armchair, folding his legs over each other and watching whilst Mycroft dropped into a chair and yawned.

"So why are you here?" he asked his younger brother. "I thought we discussed all we had to earlier."

"We had," Sherlock nodded. "But I'm not impressed by it."

"I never asked you to be impressed."

"You never asked me anything," Sherlock said quickly back. "You told me how it was going to be and left it at that."

"And did you comply?"

"Yes."

"Well then," Mycroft clapped. "I see no problem."

"Why did I need to get rid of her Mycroft?" Sherlock asked. "What had she done that was so bad?"

"You do realise that Scarlett Jenson is nothing but an illegal immigrant? If word had got out that my brother had married an illegal immigrant do you really think mummy would have recovered? The papers would have a field day with me...saying I should have known."

"So why have you decided to simply try and stop killing her?" Sherlock wondered.

"Because it was getting too troublesome," he drawled. "And I knew you were never going to give her up so it seemed like the only option. I didn't want you to know she is an illegal immigrant...I thought that once she was out the picture then things would be back to normal. No one would know of her...but then you had to find out the plan."

"Sorry to be so troublesome," Sherlock yawned in a sarcastic tone.

"And when you found out I realised I would not be able to bury her six feet under and so I had to use my last option...warning you off of her," Mycroft shrugged. "And it has worked."

"And why could you not just fix her visa before to keep her here?" Sherlock wondered.

"Because I care for you Sherlock and she wasn't right for you. Visas are extremely hard things to deal with...risky too if the outcome holds no benefit for yourself. You two shouldn't be together. I have your best interests at heart."

"Because you've really been showing it," Sherlock scoffed. "I don't know how you could do this."

"You would have gotten bored with her at some stage Sherlock," Mycroft promised his brother. "You're mind is far too active for her to comprehend and when you would get bored then you would leave her...I'm just speeding up the process."

"Rubbish," John shook his head, unable to close his mouth as Mycroft and Sherlock looked up at him. John looked back and forth between them as he shook his head. "I've never heard so much rubbish in my life. It is clear as day that Sherlock loves her. Why not just let them be?"

"Because it is impossible," Mycroft said and Sherlock narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"But she would go to court and win her right to stay in the country!" John snapped and Mycroft shook his head.

"Not if I have anything to say about it."

"You're abusing your power," John spat out. "It's sickening."

"I'm doing the right thing."

"Bullcrap," John said. "You're stopping your brother from being happy."

"I'm stopping him from rushing into something which is too serious."

"I want you to get Scarlett her visa," Sherlock suddenly interjected, his voice low and deadly. "Because if not then I will find something on you Mycroft and I will ruin your life."

"You know it's not going to work Sherlock," Mycroft said dangerously and flatly. "I have nothing."

"Everyone has secrets Mycroft," Sherlock spoke. "Or I could go to the papers with this..."

"Evidence?" Mycroft sneered and Sherlock grinned as he pulled out his phone which was hiding in his pocket and he messed around with the buttons for a second before a loud noise came from it. It was Sherlock speaking loudly, asking if his brother had lost weight.

"You recorded it?" John asked, his voice high pitched as Sherlock nodded, saving the file to memory.

"So that's you on record saying you were abusing your power to get your own way," Sherlock deduced. "I do think the papers would have a field day."

"And then people would know what Scarlett Jenson is," Mycroft replied. "They would know she is an illegal immigrant."

"And then we could fight her case fairly in a court," Sherlock said, "without your interference."

"I'm impressed Sherlock," Mycroft drawled. "I never suspected you of running to tabloid gossip papers."

"It was my last resort. And I was hoping we could sort this matter out without them intervening."

"What do you want?" Mycroft replied.

"I want Scarlett to have a new visa and I want you to leave us alone." Sherlock demanded.

"Give me until eleven tomorrow morning," Mycroft simply replied and Sherlock jumped to his feet, placing his phone firmly into his pocket as Mycroft remained seated and John and Sherlock let themselves out. Once they began to walk down the street, John smiled as Sherlock stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"That was ingenious!" John exclaimed. "You recorded him and everything...amazing..."

"Oh stop John you'll make me blush," Sherlock rolled his eyes sarcastically and John chuckled.

"When do we tell Scarlett?"

"_I_ will tell her," Sherlock said. "I have a feeling she will throw something at me when I see her...best to do this alone. Just me and her."

...

A/N: Shady Sherlock ;) Anyhow, thank you to Che, Borderline Sociopath, Katina and England's Rose for reviewing. More to come soon! Tell me what you think!


	30. Chapter 30

"I did it," Sherlock received a simple voice message from his brother at eleven a.m. the next day. Sherlock dropped his phone into his blazer pocket and stood quickly from the armchair, leaving 221B Baker Street and moving down the pavement with haste. He walked with a sense of confidence but he was also nervous. He would be a fool to think that she would take him back with open arms after how harsh he had been to her. But, he could dream. He believed the main problem would be getting her to shut up and listen to him. She had a tendency to speak when nervous and angry. Sherlock finally managed to hail a cab and he jumped into it, giving it directions to the Royal Hotel where he knew she would be. Once he arrived he paid the driver and moved into the hotel. He walked to the check in desk and smiled at the young red head sat behind the counter.

"Good morning sir," she smiled up to him. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to meet a woman…she goes by the name of Miss Jenson," Sherlock said and the woman began typing in her name on the computer.

"We do have a woman staying here by the name…but unfortunately we cannot give out personal information or the room number. Would you like me to have someone bring her down?" she asked, running a hand through her hair and leaning forward on the desk as Sherlock grinned at her and pulled something from his pocket.

"If I show you this," Sherlock flipped open Lestrade's ID, "do you think you can give me her number?"

"You're an officer," she spoke and went back to her computer, nodding approvingly.

"Detective Inspector," Sherlock contradicted her and winked as she looked back to him.

"She's in room twenty two…here's a key," she said and handed him the key along with a piece of paper. Sherlock nodded at her before grabbing onto the paper and key and then walking off, knowing she was staring after him. Once inside the elevator he glanced at the paper holding the red heads number on it and he rolled his eyes, shredding it into bits and dropping it onto the floor before the steel doors opened and Sherlock began to wander the corridors until he found number twenty two. He stopped outside the door and took a deep breath, looking at the golden numbers on the wood before knocking loudly. He heard the faint sounds of shuffling from the room and the next thing he knew was the door opening and he looked down at the blonde who stood before him.

"I didn't think you would be at work," Sherlock stated and looked onto her clothing. "But I didn't think you would be indulging in comfort food."

"Well when your fiancée ditches you then it can do this to a girl," she said and looked down at the tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream in her hands, the spoon sticking out the side of her mouth as Sherlock continued staring at her.

"We need to talk," Sherlock said.

"You did your talking," she replied. "And the fact that you couldn't even give me the real reason as to why you broke up with me made me realise that you'll never be able to tell me the truth on anything."

"You're being melodramatic," Sherlock told her and she glared at him.

"Piss off Sherlock," Scarlett said and she tried to shut the door in his face but he was too fast and agile. He moved his foot and stopped her, barging into her room and slamming the door tightly whilst Scarlett dropped her ice cream onto the cabinet near the door.

"I'm not going anywhere until you agree to marry me again," Sherlock told her and snorted loudly.

"Well you have a hell of a wait," she informed him.

"I disagree," Sherlock informed her. "Because we both know that you still love me and once I tell you why I did it then you'll go back to thinking what I did was noble."

"Don't count on it," she said through gritted teeth, "you completely unreasonable and arrogant…not to mention stuck up…twit!" Scarlett snapped and she raised her hand, aiming for Sherlock's cheek but the consulting detective managed to grab her wrist before she could hit him.

"You're quite slow this morning," Sherlock commented and Scarlett quickly raised her other hand to hit him but he caught that in his grasp again.

"Now do you promise to behave?"Sherlock asked her and she tried to snap her wrists from his grasp as she leaned up this ear and whispered lowly;

"No."

And then her knee made contact with Sherlock's crotch and his hold immediately let up on her. She jumped back from him as he doubled over, his hands instinctively going south as he raised his head to look at her as she pushed her hair from her face and over her shoulders.

"I do not think there was any need for that," Sherlock asked, his voice raspy as he blinked back moisture in his eyes. "I do hope you're not planning on reproduction."

"Not with you," she replied. "Hopefully I stopped the arrogant arse gene from being passed on."

"I think I need some ice," Sherlock said and hobbled over to the bed, settling himself down whilst Scarlett watched him and then huffed as she went over to the mini fridge in her room and pulled out the bag of ice blocks. Walking past the bed, she deposited the cold material onto his lap and he gasped in pain again.

"Do you think you can stop injuring me now?" he asked her and she rolled her eyes, leaning against the wall.

"How did you know I was here?"

"It's logical. You need to be close to work for when you decide to turn up but you also need to not be too far from estate agents and of course you would want a nice hotel. You only go for luxury but not over the top luxury."

"And why are you here?" she continued quizzing him.

"To try and tell you why I left you but I don't think you will want me back if my…ah…equipment doesn't work as well as it did," Sherlock told her.

"Why do you think I would want you back anyway?" she asked him.

"Because I plan to tell you the truth."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because you would have gone to jail," Sherlock said. "And if I had told you why I needed to break up with you then you would have just stayed and ended up in a prison cell and I don't think the uniform would have being very flattering on you."

"What?" Scarlett wondered, her eyebrows arching upwards.

"Mycroft wanted me to break up with you…because you're an illegal immigrant," Sherlock shifted the ice on his lap, wincing in pain as he did so.

"Are you actually being serious?" Scarlett asked him. "I think I would know if I was an illegal immigrant."

"Why would you?" Sherlock asked her. "Your visa is something your parents were supposed to have sorted out," Sherlock shrugged.

"And they did."

"They didn't," Sherlock said. "And Mycroft knew it…he wanted you out of my life because he knew that me going out with you could have consequences which could reflect badly on him."

"And you gave into his request because you didn't want to upset him?" Scarlett snapped and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Did the mention of jail not do anything to trigger your brain cells to work?" Sherlock asked brashly. "He said that if I stayed with you then you would have gone to jail. He would have made sure of it. He is the government Scarlett. Deportation was not an option because I could still have seen you."

Scarlett remained silent for a few moments, not knowing what to say to Sherlock as she listened to him speak of Mycroft.

"You should have told me," she whispered. "I knew something was not right."

"How could I have told you?" Sherlock asked her. "You would have ended up in jail…and I couldn't do that to you…not for just staying with me."

"We could have figured something out," Scarlett mumbled.

"No we couldn't," Sherlock said. "I needed to get rid of you so that I could come up with a plan."

"And why couldn't we just have pretended until that moment came along?" Scarlett asked him.

"Because Mycroft has people watching Scarlett," Sherlock told her. "He would have seen that we were faking it."

"And you had to be so harsh when breaking up with me?"

"It was the only way that you would leave me alone."

"And what has changed?" Scarlett asked him.

"I played Mycroft," Sherlock smirked, remembering the look on his brother's face when he saw he had been recorded.

"How?"

"I recorded him spilling his little plan and threatened to go to the newspapers," Sherlock shrugged. "Gossip would have spread…but he didn't like that idea and has managed to give you a new visa…and leave us alone."

"Us?" Scarlett asked him with a raised brow. "You think there is still an us?"

"I know there is," Sherlock told her.

"Don't be too confident," she told him.

"I did this for you," Sherlock stood up, groaning slightly. "Don't you see?"

"No," she shook her head. "You did it too harshly Sherlock…you…"

"Please don't say I broke your heart," Sherlock pleaded with her. "Because that is impossible to do."

"Well you nearly did," Scarlett told him. "You…and can you expect me to just take you back?"

"Yes," Sherlock told her. "Because I did this for you…I did it to keep you safe until I could get you to come home safely…"

"And now you roll up here," Scarlett asked, her arms going to the side, "expecting me to go weak at the knees and just accept you and move back in and marry you and end up living…well…never happily together…because we can't do that, can we? There will always be someone out there who wants me dead because of you…I mean, even your own brother wants me dead! Well he wants me gone and surely anyone else who you annoy will want the same fate for me or for you. Break ins at the flat…guns…you want me to commit to that."

"Scarlett," Sherlock whispered, walking over to her and moving his cold hand to her cheek, wiping away a tear as she shivered under his touch.

"I don't know Sherlock…" Scarlett sobbed lightly and the consulting detective pulled out the ring from his pocket and he held it in his hand in between them at eye level. Scarlett's eyes looked back onto the ring as did Sherlock's.

"Scarlett," Sherlock whispered. "This is a very nice ring," he told her, pinning her against the wall. "It would be shame to see it go to waste."

"Can't you return it?" she whispered.

"I think it would look much better on you," Sherlock replied. "What do you say?"

"What is the question," she wondered.

"Will you marry me?" he asked her.

"Sherlock-"

"Will you marry me?" he asked, his hand with the ring dropping to her fingers as his own fingertips lightly brushed hers and his other hand grabbed onto hers, moving it so the ring was lightly dangling on the end of her finger.

"Well-"

"Will you marry me?" he cut her off, his lips moving slowly down to her own as his fingers forced the ring back onto her finger. "I'm not going to ask again."

"Really?" she raised a brow as Sherlock rested his forehead against hers.

"Really," he confirmed.

"Well ask me again," she demanded.

"I said I wouldn't."

"Yes you will," Scarlett said confidently as Sherlock left the ring on her finger and laced his fingers through hers.

"A yes or a no shall suffice," Sherlock muttered.

"My answer probably defies all the basis of logic," she whispered.

"I shall take that as a yes then," and then Sherlock kissed her deeply.

…..

A/N: Thank you to Katina and Borderline Sociopath for reviewing! Hope everyone is still enjoying the story! And please review!


	31. Chapter 31

"And you have to do the cooking and cleaning for two weeks...I think that shall suffice," Scarlett told Sherlock as she unpacked her clothes back into her wardrobe and Sherlock's mouth fell open.

"Why should I?" he asked her. "That is your job."

"I never asked for that job," Scarlett shook her head. "That was something which I did because it was clear you were not going to do it."

"Hence why it is your job," Sherlock spoke, lying on the bed with his skull in his hands, admiring it in all of its glory. Scarlett had firstly looked at him with raised brows and a strange expression before realising he was a sociopath.

"Well you are doing it for the next two weeks," she demanded him. "Consider it your punishment for breaking up with me."

"And does it not occur to you that I may have saved you from jail?" Sherlock asked her and she shook her head.

"You're still in trouble," she informed him, shutting the wardrobe.

"I don't understand how your mind works," Sherlock complained. "You should be grateful for what I did."

"Humph," Scarlett complained. "And can you please put that skull down?"

"Why?" Sherlock asked, looking over its top at her as she stood with her hands on her hips.

"Because it is hardly normal or hygienic to be keeping it in the room," she told him.

"I had Molly clean it before I brought it back...and I sometimes take it out at night and it watches you sleep," he smirked and she shut her eyes, squealing slightly at the mental image before shaking her head at Sherlock.

"You're disgraceful," she told him.

"And yet you came back," he said.

"You kidnapped me," Scarlett objected.

"You would have come back anyway," Sherlock said. "And besides, I don't see you trying to escape now."

"Count yourself lucky," she warned him.

"I do," he said seriously, looking into her eyes before she coughed and turned red, looking away from his large eyes and walking around the bedroom, tidying clothes from the floor and putting them back into their original places.

"Let's get married," Sherlock suddenly dropped his skull onto the bed and jumped up, looking over at Sherlock and she raised a questioning brow.

"I thought we were engaged?" she checked. "That is what happens when people agree to get engaged."

"I meant now," Sherlock exasperated and Scarlett simply remained stood still whilst Sherlock paced up and down, his hands on his hips and going through his hair wildly whilst Scarlett shook her head.

"No way," she said. "I haven't got a dress...or a reception...or invitations...bloody hell Sherlock we don't even have a venue or a vicar or anyone to witness it...and then there is a cake!"

"Does it all matter?" he asked her. "I don't care what you look like when I marry you and I don't care if people are there to watch us and I don't want a cake. I just want you and I to be married. Nothing else matters to me!"

"What has brought this on?" Scarlett panicked, climbing onto the bed and walking over it to the other side, jumping down and grabbing onto Sherlock's arm to stop him from pacing. "Why can't you wait?"

"Because life is too short!" he exclaimed. "And this is something which we both want and so why wait?"

"Because this is a wedding-"

"I'm well aware," Sherlock cut her off. "But do you really want the big white wedding? Do you really want other people who we don't care for to be there?"

"Well...a part of me would like the dress..." Scarlett shrugged. "But...well...not the big reception..."

"Then let's go now," Sherlock said.

"You're being rash," Scarlett informed him and he shrugged.

"So what if I am?" he asked her. "I could have lost you forever when Mycroft decided to interfere but I didn't. I'm just tired of putting things off."

"Have you gone mad?" Scarlett asked him and he smiled widely at her before pressing his mouth onto hers, his hands going onto her cheeks before he pulled away for a moment.

"What do you think?" he asked her. "We don't need the cake for people to eat and get fat on. You don't need the dress because it will be for one day and then it will go away and never be used and you would look beautiful walking down the aisle to me in anything. People don't need to be there to congratulate us because we don't need them. All we need are the rings and John to be a witness. And for the reception I can take you anywhere you want to go afterwards."

"I have work-"

"Forget about it," Sherlock demanded from her. "Take a sick day off or a week...you are all that I want Scarlett. Not this large ceremony."

"I don't know what to say," Scarlett admitted. "It is all so sudden."

"It's not really," Sherlock cocked his head to the side. "We both agreed to get married."

"I meant it was randomly quick," Scarlett replied.

"Yes or no Scarlett...that's all it will take."

...

"This is quick even by your standards," John commented as he shared a cab with Sherlock to the registry office. Sherlock grinned out the window as John buttoned up his cufflinks. "You're lucky you had a suit ready."

"I always have a suit," Sherlock frowned slightly. "I'm not too keen on this though," Sherlock motioned to the black tie which John had lent him and he had made the consulting detective place a comb through his hair which he hadn't done for two days in a row. John wore nearly the exact same as Sherlock as the two of them climbed out the cab and paid the driver, looking onto the registry office.

"When do you think Scarlett will be here?" John wondered, checking his watch and walking into the building with Sherlock.

"It's a bride's prerogative to be late John," Sherlock told his friend. "As long as she turns up then I fail to care how late she is."

...

"Do I look alright?" Scarlett checked with Sarah as she walked down the steps of Sarah's home. She wore a white lace dress which had three quarter sleeves along with her nude heels. Sarah stood in her purple prom like dress with her hair tied behind her and her black heels on as she watched Scarlett come down the stairs. The blonde had her hair tied into a loose bun on the back of her head as she stood in front of the mirror in the hallway.

"You look beautiful," Sarah assured her. "But I need to ask..."

"What's the rush?" Scarlett finished off her sentence and she smiled at the older woman.

"Yeah."

"It was Sherlock's idea," Scarlett said. "He just said he wanted to marry me and that he didn't want to wait...I suppose in some way it is romantic...apart from the fact he's impatient."

"But what about you?" Sarah wondered.

"What about me?" Scarlett shrugged.

"I thought you wanted the big dress? You know...be the centre of attention for one day." Sarah shrugged and Scarlett smiled at her.

"I thought that too," she agreed. "But being with Sherlock last night and just laying with him made me realise I had all that I need. I have you and John as friends and I have a psycho who loves me even though he doesn't show it often...the money can be saved up from the wedding and spent on something else...maybe a house? Maybe a holiday? No, all I want is waiting at the registry office for me."

Sarah remained silent for a moment before nodding.

"I sent John out for some flowers this morning," Sarah said, moving into the kitchen and Scarlett followed and she handed the girl a small bouquet of white roses and Scarlett smiled as she held onto them.

"Are they okay?" Sarah checked. "We can change them on the way if you want to?"

"No," Scarlett shook her head. "They're beautiful..."

"Good," Sarah said. "Because we need to be going...are you sure you trust Sherlock to pick the rings?"

"Oh don't worry," Scarlett shook her head. "He has excellent taste in rings," she flashed her engagement ring and Sarah chuckled before grabbing her arm and taking it into hers.

"Let's go and get him to make an honest woman out of you then," she laughed and Scarlett chuckled loudly.

"That's a hard task," she joked.

...

"You're phone is going off," John informed his friend and Sherlock moved out of his trance as he watched a newlywed couple come out of the room and he answered it as it rang.

"Yes," he snapped down the phone. "What? Now?"

"No," John shook his head, knowing who was on the other end.

"In an hour," Sherlock told the phone. "Why? Because I'm about to get married and if I leave now then I imagine I shall be dead and God only knows what you would do without me."

"Give me that," John said and he snatched the phone from Sherlock and placed it into his own pocket along with the rings he had held onto.

"I was going to hang up," Sherlock told John who raised a questioning brow and Sherlock huffed.

"I know what you're like when there is a case," John said. "You get off on it."

"I said I would do this first and then go," Sherlock said and John snorted.

"Good luck telling Scarlett that," he scoffed.

"Holmes?" a woman called out and Sherlock stood up and shook her hand as they walked into the room.

...

"Are you okay?" Sarah checked with Scarlett as she stood with her outside the room where Sherlock was stood waiting. Scarlett took a deep breath and nodded at Sarah.

"I'm just nervous," she said. "I mean...this is it..."

"It's a big commitment," Sarah agreed.

"I know...but he's in there...waiting for me..." Scarlett placed her hands onto her hips and bent over slightly, trying to cure the nervous feeling in her stomach.

"And he will wait for you if you decide you can't do this at the moment," Sarah promised her and Scarlett shook her head.

"No. I love him...I'm just...I wasn't nervous earlier...I want this," she said and looked Sarah in the eye.

"Are you sure?" she checked and Scarlett nodded.

"I love him..."

"Okay then," Sarah nodded and the door suddenly opened.

"Sarah," Scarlett grasped onto her arm before she could move into the room. "Please walk with me down the aisle...so I don't fall or anything stupid?"

"Of course," Sarah said and took Scarlett's arm and the two of them walked into the room where music rang out softly. Once Scarlett was in she saw the row of ten lines of empty chairs and the back of the consulting detective, his black mop of hair unruly due to its curls. She saw John smile as he nudged Sherlock and he finally turned around slightly, his mouth curving upwards as Scarlett looked back at him and smiled. Once they reached the front Sarah released Scarlett from her hold and instead Sherlock took hold of her hand, squeezing it tightly, sensing her nerves as the registrar began her speech about marriage. Sherlock had asked her to keep the ceremony short and she did just that.

"Sherlock Holmes do you take Scarlett Rose Jenson to be your wedded wife to live together in marriage? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor and keep her for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, and forsaking all others, be faithful only to her so long as you both shall live?" she asked Sherlock who smirked, looking down at Scarlett as he held the ring on her finger and she looked back at him.

"I do."

Scarlett reached for the ring which John handed her and slid it onto Sherlock's finger as the woman asked her the same question she had asked Sherlock and she managed to whisper her answer.

"I do."

"Then I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride," she said and Sherlock took not time to waste as he smiled into the kiss with his new wife.

….

"So Sherlock Holmes has gotten married?" a man checked on his phone as he sat in the front of a sports car and spoke to someone. "Yes…they're out now…"

He watched as Sarah and John raced to the bottom of the stairs and Scarlett and Sherlock walked out hand in hand, and then saw as the confetti was thrown over them, Sherlock's face still smiling as his bride kissed him again quickly.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Wait," the voice on the other end spoke. "Don't warn him off just yet. We don't know if he will take the case or not."

"But if he does?" the man wondered.

"Then we proceed to tell him to mind his own business. After all, he does have a new bride who he has promised to protect now."

"So should I come back?"

"For now," he was told. "We'll give Sherlock Holmes some time. He may be in need of it."

…

A/N: Thank you to Katina and Borderline Sociopath for reviewing!


	32. Chapter 32

"God," Scarlett sighed as she and Sherlock stood outside the registry office and John and Sarah explored the deep regions of each other's throats for a few moments. The consulting detective held his phone in his hands as he quickly text and his bride stood opposite him, bouquet of flowers in her hands as she looked at Sherlock.

"What are you doing?" she wondered.

"Lestrade had a case which he needed me to go and see...he called earlier before the reception and told him that it wasn't the time or the place," Sherlock explained to Scarlett and blonde couldn't help but grin and chuckle.

"And you're going to go now?" she checked and he nodded.

"Problem?" he arched a brow and examined her face as she shook her head.

"No," she said. "I knew what I was marrying into," she sighed slightly.

"Ah," Sherlock simply said. "Clearly judging by your face you are trying to show that you don't mind me going off and helping Lestrade because you know that I need my work to stop me from going mad and you also knew that my work is as much of a priority as you are. However, judging by the sigh you are also disappointed that I'm not going to whisk you off somewhere nice because you have just married me and wanted to spend some time as man and wife."

"I'll divorce you if you continue that," she warned him.

"What?"

"Reading me like you do."

"Well," Sherlock grinned, "you're like an open book...you're like the Ladybird books in the world...not a piece of hard old Latin."

"Are you quite done insulting me?" Scarlett asked him with a raised brow and he winked at her.

"You love it," he said.

"Well you've committed yourself to me and so you should stop doing the reading thingy," Scarlett waved a hand and Sherlock frowned for a second as he thought;

"I never said in the vows that I would stop reading you," he told her. "Odd request that one."

"Well we should have written our own vows," Scarlett said as Sherlock jumped out suddenly and hailed a cab to stop for him. He pulled the door open as Scarlett stood near him and he shook his head.

"I can't be dealing with a tedious task like writing vows," he waved it off and Scarlett shook her head.

"Be careful," she told him and he moved his long and calloused fingers to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he leaned down to kiss her quickly.

"I have a wife to come home to now, don't I?" Sherlock grinned and Scarlett smiled as she pecked him on the cheek quickly and he climbed into the cab. She watched as it drove off, wondering what mysteries were in store for her husband now.

...

"What do we have?" Sherlock asked as he strode with purpose up to Lestrade who was stood in the reception area of Mason Secondary School. Lestrade stopped his conversation with Donovan and looked at Sherlock.

"Is it true?" he asked the consulting detective who raised his hand with the ring on it and Lestrade's eye's popped open wide. "She married you?"

"Who?" Donovan asked and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Are you seriously this dense Sally?" he asked her. "Then again...you are sleeping with Anderson so clearly you are."

"Scarlett!" she suddenly shrieked. "You actually married her? Wait...she actually agreed to marry you? What did you do then? Kidnap her?"

"Your sense of wit never fails to amuse me Sally," Sherlock said. "But I thought I was here to take a look at a case."

"You are," Lestrade shook his head quickly. "But I didn't even know you were going to get married? And today?"

"I was unaware that I had to inform you of all my doings," Sherlock drawled. "Now, the body would be lovely to see."

"How did you propose?" Donovan asked him.

"Using a ring and the power of speech," Sherlock said dryly. "The case?"

"Did you take her out for the proposal?" she asked.

"He asked her whilst they were doing DIY. Apparently he is shocking at it," Lestrade said and Sherlock's eyes went wide as he looked at him.

"How do you know that?" Sherlock asked.

"John's blog," Lestrade shrugged. "He put it online. Said he was happy for you."

"He blogged about it?" Sally checked. "I'll be reading that when I go home."

"And I'll be making sure he blogs no more," Sherlock huffed. "Now am I here to solve this case for you or do you plan to waste my time with your inferior chat?"

...

"The pasta looks more appetising," Sherlock told Molly as he moved his wedding ring from his finger and placed it into his pocket. She jumped slightly and held onto her clipboard, looking up at Sherlock.

"I haven't seen you in ages," she whispered. "I had to have some member of the team explain how you had come back from the dead."

"It's impossible to come back from the dead Molly," Sherlock told her, smirking down at her. "You should know that."

"Oh," she said, turning red, "I do...just...well...it's a figure of speech."

"I was kidding Molly," Sherlock grinned. "And I need a favour if you wouldn't mind?"

"Is it to do with the Jackson case?" she asked. "It's been the main headline down here."

"It is," Sherlock confirmed. "I need to check the torso."

"Whatever for?" Molly wondered. "There was just some scarring."

"Exactly," Sherlock said and Molly sighed before going back to her paperwork.

"I was about to send the paperwork through," she said hesitantly and Sherlock huffed in annoyance to himself before pursing his lips and looking onto her.

"You seem taller today," he said simply. "You're wearing heels."

"Well...yes..." she said. "I was at a meeting earlier..."

"They make you look nice...your legs seem to stretch..." and that was how manipulation was done.

...

"Freak," Donovan snapped as she walked into the morgue under Lestrade's orders. He wanted her to be there whilst Sherlock examined the body, making sure nothing was out of order seeing as he couldn't be there alone. Sherlock groaned under his breath as he stood with Molly, looking onto the body with intrigue.

"Pleasure as always Sally," Sherlock said. "What can we do for you?"

"Lestrade wanted me to be here whilst you observed the body. He doesn't trust you," she snarled.

"I think he does," Sherlock said. "He just wanted to get rid of the yapping dog at his heels."

"Yapping dog?" she asked and Sherlock cocked a brow at her and she folded her arms over her chest.

"I am not a yapping dog!" she snapped at him and he chuckled to himself, tracing a gloved hand along the scar.

"I don't know who would want to marry you," Donovan muttered and Molly's ears picked up as she looked back and forth at the two of them and saw Sherlock's scowling face before smiling in disillusion.

"Marry you?" she asked Sherlock and Donovan pointed a finger back and forth from Sherlock to Molly.

"She...oh...she doesn't know?" she feigned innocence.

"And your timing for speaking is impeccable as always Sally," Sherlock hissed and Molly turned white again.

"You married her?" she asked Sherlock.

"Yes Molly," Sherlock said.

"I didn't even know you were engaged!" she spat out hysterically. "When did this happen? Why wasn't I invited to the wedding? Why didn't you tell me?"

"One question at a time," Sherlock pleaded. "Your pitch is only one which dogs can hear...Sally...can you interpret Molly for me?"

Before Sally had a chance to answer Molly spoke up, standing tall.

"Well I think you've made a mistake," she snapped and Sherlock's face moved back and before he could speak back she continued. "You haven't even known her for all that long and you don't know what she is like and I don't believe you should have rushed into marriage because it is something which needs to be taken serious and by you being here and instead of with her shows it is something you're not bothered about. You don't even have your ring on! This has to be fake Sherlock...no way could you have married her. There is no chance of it being probable. Why do this? Just because she is blonde and quite attractive...I never had you down as the type to go for blondes anyway...Brunettes! They're more you! Not her...she's...she's just her!"

The three of them remained stood in silence after Molly's hysterical burst of words and raw emotion showing hatred towards Sherlock.

"Well," Sherlock simply said, "thank you for your contribution Molly...it has been most enlightening."

"Has it?" she asked him, her face looking hopeful, wondering if he knew how she felt.

"Yes. It is quite clear that you didn't think I would be married before you and so you're just hoping that this doesn't mean you're going to die alone with ninety cats."

"What?" Molly wondered. "Ninety? Alone?"

"It's the typical stereotype but I can tell you're more of a dog person. But don't worry Molly...domestic bliss is your scene...you just need to be sure not to put on too much weight."

And then Molly quickly stood on his foot in her heels before leaving, allowing Donovan her chance to snicker at the events.

...

A/N: Thank you to Che, Katina and Borderline Sociopath for reviewing! And to everyone who added me to favourites and story alert! Reviews are welcome! More than welcome actually!


	33. Chapter 33

"Do you want to know the ironic thing about this?" John asked Scarlett as he, Sarah and Scarlett sat in a restaurant, waiting for their food to be served. Scarlett picked up her wine glass and sipped on it as she raised a quizzing brow at John waiting for an answer.

"Well it is odd," John said. "Normally a groom would jilt his bride before the wedding...but Sherlock does it after."

"Sherlock isn't normal," Sarah said and her voice was slightly spiked with annoyance at the man. She had thought that the least he could do would be to wait and enjoy his time with Scarlett because they had just gotten married. Scarlett didn't mind as much if she had to be honest. She knew Sherlock's work would always come first.

"And you don't mind him going?" Sarah asked Scarlett who shook her head, placing her wine back onto the table.

"I know that his work is important and that he needs it...his mind is unique and I'm not going to stop him from going," Scarlett shrugged.

"Not even on your wedding day?" John asked her.

"No," Scarlett said. "Of course I'm not thrilled of the idea. I do wish he would have just come back to the flat with me but as long as he comes back then I'm okay. I thought I'd lost him once...I can't think of him leaving again."

"But don't you worry for him?" Sarah asked Scarlett.

"Of course I worry for him," she said. "He's my husband."

"Then why not stop him from going?" Sarah asked.

"Because he is his own person," Scarlett sighed. "I'm just going to the bathroom..." and with that she stood up and walked off into the bathroom leaving John telling Sarah that she shouldn't have questioned Scarlett like she had done. Once inside the bathroom she splashed cold water onto her face, gripping onto the basin side as she did, bowing her head. Of course she was always worried that Sherlock would get hurt and no matter how badly she wanted him to stop she knew he wouldn't. He was too strong willed.

"Pull yourself together Scarlett," she told herself. "He'll come back...he will."

Scarlett slowly pushed herself back up and looked in the mirror but as she did her eyes went wide. Stood behind her was a man in her reflection, his eyes narrowed at her whilst hers went wide.

"Hey," he smirked at her.

"Um..." Scarlett said as she turned around and the next thing which she felt was his hand on her throat and slamming her against the mirror. She felt it crack and hit her skull causing her to bleed into her blonde hair as he choked her slowly.

"Ah," she croaked out.

"I have a little message for you Miss Jenson...sorry...Mrs Holmes," he told her, his face reddening as Scarlett remembered his greasy details. Scarlett squirmed under his weight but her body didn't escape his grip and her breath became short. "Your little husband is going to cause us a problem if he doesn't leave us alone."

"I...wh-...no..." Scarlett managed to croak out noises and he grinned as he saw her face pale and the blood fell down her hair and onto her white lace dress.

"Remember the message," he told her. "If he doesn't leave this alone then he may not have his pretty little wife to come home to? Understand me?"

Scarlett didn't make a noise as he released her and grasped onto her throat and fell down the side of the wall, her breath coming out in deep short pants before the man took off not looking behind him at her. Scarlett remained sat on the floor, her eyes building up with tears before she heard the bathroom door open.

"You've been in here a while," Sarah's sudden voice said before she noted the blonde sat on the floor sobbing.

"What the hell happened?" she asked, pulling a tissue from her clutch bag and placing it onto the cut on Scarlett's head as she pushed away pieces of glass and knelt down beside her.

"Sherlock's in trouble...again..."

...

"Managed to put your foot in it again Sally," Sherlock hissed once Molly had ran out of the room and Donovan couldn't help but grin whilst the consulting detective placed his weight onto his uninjured foot and leant against the slab which held the dead body.

"I didn't mean to," she said and Sherlock could see she was genuine. "But I think it is interesting that I did...word had been going around that you had besotted someone at St Barts."

"Well I didn't know she liked me that much," Sherlock snapped. "She'll be fine in a moment."

"You think?" Sally raised a brow. "Now why are you checking the scar on the torso?"

"Because it is the same scar which is on the recent body. It is clear you're looking for a serial killer who has the same pattern of killing...a scar is like leaving a trademark," Sherlock inhaled as he began to pace but hurt himself on his foot.

"So there are two bodies?" Donovan checked. "Two bodies with the same scar?"

"Clearly," Sherlock drawled.

"I'll go and tell the boss then," Sally said with a clap. "Have fun limping home freak."

"And it was nice talking to you too Sally," Sherlock said dryly.

...

"You'll be fine I think," John said as he sat with Scarlett on the sofa in 221B Baker Street. Sarah had gone back to her house to pick up her medical equipment after being needed on a case. John had told her that she should go and that he would stay and look after Scarlett until Sherlock made his return. "No concussion but you just need rest I..."

"Thanks John," Scarlett said. "I can't believe he's managed to get into trouble so fast."

"Are you considering divorce?" he joked and Scarlett chuckled.

"Tempting," she kidded with him and he chuckled before they heard the slamming of a door and muttering under someone's breath. Sherlock placed his ring onto his finger before walking into the living room with a raised brow, standing slowly in front of them.

"What happened?" he asked and looked at dried blood in Scarlett's hair. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said.

"Why didn't you call me about this?" he asked her. "I could have come..."

"You were busy," Scarlett said. "And I'm okay now."

"I am guessing this is to do with me," Sherlock said and John stood up, allowing the consulting detective to replace him as his bride grabbed onto his hand quickly and awkwardly rested her head into his chest.

"You're in trouble Sherlock," Scarlett whispered. "We both are."


	34. Chapter 34

"Stay still," Sherlock instructed Scarlett as she stood up from the sofa, about to move into the bathroom. She did as he had said and the next thing she felt was his hands on the back of the dress, pulling the hidden zip down before he pulled the material from her shoulders slightly.

"What are you doing?" she raised a brow and Sherlock gathered her hair into his hand and pushed it in front of her shoulder before his cold hands rested on her skin and he looked at the little piece of material sticking out from her pale skin.

"Considering that John is a doctor he did not notice the shard of glass which is stuck in your back," Sherlock told her and she sighed.

"Is it deep?"

"No," Sherlock replied and reached for the glass, quickly yanking it out as Scarlett's breath hitched slightly. Sherlock quickly reached for a tissue and began to mop up the blood which was seeping out as he felt Scarlett back closer to him so that she was lightly touching against him.

"You really should have phoned me," Sherlock told her, a deep sound of annoyance in his throat as she felt her hand lace into his free one.

"You were busy Sherlock," Scarlett whispered. "And besides…I had John and Sarah."

"But you're not married to them, are you?" he replied bluntly.

"And you're married to your work as much as you're married to me," Scarlett replied brashly.

"And to be the last to know that my own wife has been injured…" he shook his head. "It's just not acceptable."

"Well you know now," Scarlett replied. "Please Sherlock…I don't want to fall out with you and especially not on our wedding night."

"Fine," Sherlock replied and removed the tissue once the bleeding had stopped. "I won't argue…but I still want you to know that I'm not happy."

"It's over with now," Scarlett said. "We're fine…I'm fine…you're…wait…are you limping?" Scarlett raised a brow as she saw him hobble over to the bin and then try to straighten himself out whilst she looked at him.

"It was a misunderstanding," Sherlock shook it off.

"Who did you argue with?"

"Molly," Sherlock replied in a bitter tone. "I told her that…well…she was annoyed we got married."

"Oh," Scarlett replied giving a nod in understanding whilst Sherlock frowned.

"You understand?" he asked her and she nodded.

"Of course I do. She's annoyed that you married me because she has a crush on you," Scarlett shrugged. "As long as she doesn't come after me then I'm not bothered."

"And you think that because she likes me then that provides her with a valid reason to stand on my foot?" Sherlock checked.

"No," Scarlett replied. "But I can see why she is annoyed."

"Women," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I shall never understand what goes through your brain at some times."

"And you never will," Scarlett kissed him lightly on the cheek before he grasped onto her wrist and drew her close to him.

"You know that as a vow I said I would protect you?" he checked with her. "Well I do believe I have currently been failing at that vow."

"You can't be with me twenty four seven," Scarlett frowned.

"No," he agreed. "But I can stop people hurting you."

"What are you saying?" Scarlett asked him, wondering if he was truly planning on dropping the case to stop people from coming after her. Would he prioritise her over his job?

"I'm saying that whilst I am working this case then I shall try and keep it all quiet. Only Lestrade shall know and that way they don't know I'm on it," Sherlock told her as if it were simple. Scarlett nodded once and then left for the bathroom, knowing that the thought that he should put her before work was one of complete and utter ludicrousness.

…..

Scarlett flicked the light switch on her bedside lamp to see Sherlock stood there, shrugging into his purple shirt as she sat up, pulling the covers over her as she went.

"So you now shag them then leave them?" she raised a brow and Sherlock rolled his eyes at her.

"You really do need to wash your mouth out," he told her. "It isn't an attractive quality."

"What part of me even thought that you would stay here on our wedding night?"

"The small part of you which contains optimism," Sherlock told her. "But don't worry; we'll soon have that part brushed from you."

"I don't know why I even try and be optimistic when you're around."

"On the bright side, being pessimistic means that it makes me seem better when I do something right…when you're optimistic you always have the high expectation," Sherlock told her and buttoned up his shirt.

"Where are you going?" she asked. "It's three in the morning…aren't you tired?"

"Unlike you our previous physical activity does not drain me."

"I am not drained!" Scarlett snapped. "Just really tired…"

"Same thing," he told her. "And my homeless network contacted me when you were sleeping. There has been another murder but one of them saw the man who left the club…they tracked down his address."

"No way," Scarlett shook her head. "You are not going there alone."

"I called John," Sherlock replied, slipping into his trousers.

"And I am sure he was more than willing to come with you," Scarlett replied dryly, knowing that he got off on the danger, no matter how many times he denied it.

"He sounded a little annoyed to begin with but he came round to the idea," Sherlock said. "Normal people don't appreciate being woken up early regardless of an adventure."

"An adventure?"

"I should say that it classes into the category of adventure," Sherlock nodded. "You go back to sleep…don't worry your pretty little head about this."

"Are you taking the piss?" she asked him, standing up with the sheet around her body as she began looking for clothes.

"Language," Sherlock warned her. "And you can drop the sheet. There's nothing I haven't seen before."

"And if you keep on annoying me like you are doing then you won't be seeing it for a long time," she promised him. "And I'm coming with you…"

"I would let you," Sherlock said and watched as she opened the wardrobe to find an empty space, "but I knew you'd want to come."

"Where…what…why…Sherlock!" she managed to snap at him. "Where are all my clothes?"

"I had to hide them," he said. "I knew you would want to come and I'm not allowing you to get into any more trouble."

"Because I haven't seen trouble before," she snorted and Sherlock sighed once.

"I promised in my vows to protect you…and I am doing just that."

"And I promised to protect you," Scarlett replied.

"And by staying here you do just that," he promised her and finally shrugged into his blazer before nodding at Scarlett.

"I'll be back later," he promised her. "And then I'll give you your clothes back."

"I'll come just in this," she warned him and he chuckled.

"I think you'd attract some odd stares," he called out as he moved down the hall and she followed him, nearly tripping over the white sheet.

"Where are they Sherlock?" she pleaded with him.

"Somewhere," he said. "Now go back to sleep and I'll be back soon." And then he slammed the door to 221B Baker Street shut.


	35. Chapter 35

"So stupid," Scarlett muttered under her breath as she heard the door to 221B shut and she ran back off into the living room, moving everything that she could to see where he had hidden her clothes. She swore under her breath as she moved into the bathroom and then back into the bedroom, pushing things from their normal places before sighing loudly and then coming up with a plan. Surely he hadn't hid his own clothes. Scarlett flung the wardrobe which Sherlock had open and then her face fell as she looked at the empty railing and the note which clung to the golden tube.

_You didn't really think I was that stupid, did you?_

"Crap," Scarlett muttered and ran a hand through her hair. She stood still for a moment before thinking about what to do. There was no way she was running through the streets of London in nothing but a sheet and at the same time there was no way she was going to let Sherlock go off and maybe get himself killed. And then she remembered John. She called his mobile after finding hers hiding in the depths of her bag and she placed it to her ear before he picked up.

"John Watson," she said low and dangerously, "If you don't tell me where my husband is then I swear to God that will be the end of you."

"He's not here yet..." John simply replied.

"And could you be more specific about where 'here' is?" Scarlett snapped at him and he sighed.

"He had said you'd probably call me," John told her. "And that I am to give you no instructions as to where we are going because you would follow."

"And I wonder why I would follow," Scarlett rolled her eyes. "He's taken all of my clothes and I have nothing to wear and he intends to just keep me locked up here..."

"He's trying to keep you safe."

"First time for everything," Scarlett snorted and John sighed.

"He isn't being an arse about this," John told her.

"Mrs Hudson," Scarlett suddenly whispered and began to walk out.

"Don't bother," John told her and Scarlett stood still for a moment at the top of the stairs.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because Sherlock paid for her to go away for the weekend because well...of your wedding...and all that when you go home..."

"You mean he didn't want her ears damaged from our-"

"Yes," John interrupted quickly. "Keep your private life to yourself...oh crap...he's here..."

"If you hang up on me John-"

And then he hung up. Scarlett looked at her phone and saw the call had been disconnected. She flung her phone onto the bed and rested down on it, groaning as she went. Out of all the men in the world she had to choose the only consulting detective to marry.

...

"She's going to kill you," John told Sherlock as they walked along the quiet pavement of London to the known address the homeless network had given Sherlock. Sherlock chuckled lightly and rolled his eyes.

"She's faking it John," he informed his friend. "She would be lost without me. In the end she will realise that this was for her own good."

"And out of interest," John said, "where did you hide her clothes?"

"How do I know you won't call her back and relay the information?" Sherlock wondered, looking into his eyes and John shook his head.

"Because I don't want her to get hurt either?" he checked with Sherlock and the man just nodded in understanding, realising John was far too simple to read and so couldn't be lying.

"I hid them in your old room. I have been using it for my experiments and Scarlett can't handle going in there...she'd never find them anyway."

"Why wouldn't she?"

"Because the first thing which she will see if she opens that cupboard is the remains of a human body part...well...a severed arm and head. She'll scream and then run a mile."

"That's grim Sherlock," John frowned.

"It's an experiment," Sherlock replied. "I didn't think she would appreciate seeing them whilst we're in the middle of-"

"No!" John snapped and Sherlock grinned and raised a brow.

"I was going to say in the middle of dinner. You and Scarlett have terribly disturbing minds at times."

"We have disturbing minds?" John scoffed. "We're not the ones hiding body parts in cupboards!"

"Let's hope you never have to move back in then," Sherlock said and then stopped outside the flat. It was situated above a fish and chip shop as Sherlock looked up at it, wondering the best way to get in.

"I'm guessing we're not going to ring the doorbell then," John murmured as he followed Sherlock round the side of the building, managing to just jump over the high fence as Sherlock easily grabbed onto the top and hauled himself over with skill. John managed to get over, but on his descent he caught his leg on the wood and hurtled to the ground.

"Ow," he complained, standing up and rubbing the mud off from him as he saw Sherlock using his hands to skim the brickwork and looking up at the window. "I'm fine," John muttered. "Don't worry about me...no broken bones or anything..."

And his grumbles did indeed fall onto deaf ears. Sherlock continued to walk down the side of the building until he came to the small back shared yard which was scruffy looking with paved slabs and bits of rubbish. Before John could even speak anything else Sherlock had jumped onto the dustbin and then he reached for the ledge which went around the back of the house. He used his hands to cling onto it before hauling himself up, trying not to slip on the tiles. John watched in awe as the detective found the correct window which was slightly open and he managed to pull it open all the way. John quickly then jumped onto the bin and then onto the ledge, losing his footing slightly before he followed Sherlock through the window. Once inside, they both gasped at the vile smell before walking down the small corridor, keeping quiet, knowing someone was inside one of the rooms. As they walked, John kept his hand on his gun as his feet caused the floorboards beneath him to squeak as he went. Sherlock remained graceful, fumbling around in the dark until he heard the smashing noise from a room in the hall.

"Did you hear that?" John asked Sherlock in a whisper but before he could reply there was the sound of a gunshot and light illuminated the building. Sherlock ducked down as they saw a man run down the corridor and into the main living room and they followed. John managed to rugby tackle him to the ground whilst Sherlock dove onto the sofa they were near and reached for his discarded gun. John tussled with the man on the floor as Sherlock stood up and fired the gun, stopping the two of them from fighting.

"What the hell is this?" the man asked as John stood up and backed over to Sherlock, still holding his gun.

"I could ask you the same question," Sherlock replied, looking at the gun in his hand and then at the man's greasy features. He fitted the description Scarlett had given him. Slowly, the man stood and then smiled.

"Sherlock Holmes," he whispered. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you."

"And why not?" Sherlock wondered.

"Because I'm just the messenger boy...not held high up..."

"And apparently you killed someone earlier this morning," Sherlock said and he shrugged.

"I was told to...is that why you're here?" he asked him and Sherlock raised a brow.

"Why did you think I would be here?" he quizzed him although he already knew. The man's smile on his face grew and Sherlock felt slightly disgusted at the sight of it.

"Because I had words with you Mrs. earlier on today..."

"I am aware you did," Sherlock spoke, trying to keep calm.

"Truth be told I felt slightly bad doing it...I could think of much more inventive ways to feel her wriggle under my body-"

But he was cut off from finishing his sentence as Sherlock placed the gun into his blazer and quickly threw a punch across the man's jaw, knocking him back slightly. Before John had a chance to warn his friend to not do anything stupid Sherlock had picked the man back up straight and had punched him again, but this time he was much more prepared and he flung his fist back at Sherlock who was hit in the neck. The two men tousled and John tried to pull them apart, but as he shoved Sherlock, the enemy reached for the gun in his pocket and the greasy looking hit man pulled back and pointed it at the detective who was straightening out his jacket. John looked on for a moment and watched as he raised the gun at his friend and without giving a second thought, John fired a shot straight into the greasy man's chest. Sherlock watched as the man fell backwards and he dropped to his knees, looking on as blood seeped out.

"Who are you working for?" Sherlock snapped at him but he received no reply and Sherlock shook his head.

"Who sent you?" he demanded from him again. "Tell me now!"

"Good luck..." he croaked out. "You'll need it..."

...

"You psychopath!" Scarlett yelled at Sherlock as he walked back into 221B and she adjusted the sheet around her body. "Who the hell keeps body parts in a cupboard?"

"And if you looked further back in the cupboard you would have found your clothes," Sherlock grumbled and Scarlett looked at him for the first time.

"You've been bleeding," she noted the dried blood on his chin and she grabbed his hand and lead him into the bathroom. Sherlock took a seat on the side of the bath whilst she grabbed cotton wool and wet it slightly, dabbing it onto his chin.

"What happened?" she asked him.

"The man who attacked you was some kind of hit man...he's dead now," Sherlock spoke in a monotone fashion.

"You killed him?" she raised a brow.

"John did," Sherlock stated. "He was going to shoot me."

"So you found nothing out?"

"No," Sherlock said. "Nothing at all."

"You shouldn't have gone," Scarlett shook her head. "I've had to stay here...waiting...not knowing where you went. Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"I was keeping you safe," Sherlock said, running a hand through his black hair. "How can you not see that?"

"Because you risked your own life...and..."

"I fail to understand why you're annoyed," Sherlock stood up. "I'm back now."

"You might not have been," she huffed. "Now go and fetch my clothes."

"You go and get them," Sherlock said.

"I am not going anywhere near a body part," she replied. "So I suggest you go and fetch them now or you'll soon be visiting Molly."

"I don't think she would want to see-"

"In a body bag," Scarlett interrupted and left Sherlock in the bathroom.


	36. Chapter 36

"Here," Scarlett handed Sherlock his cup of tea as he looked out the net curtains, his brain working overtime, wondering who could have wanted him dead so badly. Sherlock took the cup without muttering thanks as he was too lost in his own thoughts.

"Shut up," he suddenly whispered and Scarlett wrapped both her hands round her coffee cup and tucked her feet under her as she sat on the armchair.

"Excuse me?" she asked him curtly and he shook his head, looking onto the street.

"What you were thinking...it was annoying," Sherlock informed her and she rolled her eyes.

"How do you know what I was thinking?" she replied.

"It's quite obvious," Sherlock said. "You were giving off negative vibes."

"How do you know-"

"I don't know why you persist in asking me how I know things," Sherlock replied curtly. "I just do. Okay?"

"So what was I thinking?" she raised a brow.

"You were thinking about how this person who is trying to kill me will get to me," Sherlock replied.

"Perfectly normal thing to think about," Scarlett replied quickly and Sherlock shook his head, dropping the clasp of net curtain from his hands and sipping on his tea.

"No it isn't," Sherlock said. "And Lestrade has just pulled up."

"Has he?"

"Yes," Sherlock said and took another drink of tea. "I shall see you later."

"Wait," Scarlett said, raising a hand and standing up. "You're going with him?"

"Of course I'm going with him," Sherlock said. "There's a case to solve and another serial killer to find."

"But...he said..."

"Oh you're worried that if I leave and investigate this then someone will come after you like you were warned..."

"Well yeah," Scarlett shrugged, running a hand through her hair. "I can't pretend it doesn't worry me."

"Well put your shoes on," Sherlock said as there was a knock on the door and Scarlett's eyes went wide.

"You want me to come with you?" she asked him.

"No," he replied sarcastically, "I want you to go for a five mile run in the rain...of course I want you to come with me."

"Fine," Scarlett huffed and Sherlock took her cup as she slipped on her flat ballet pumps and Sherlock helped her into her grey blazer jacket, pulling her blonde hair out from the collar before grabbing onto her hand and rushing down the steps. "And I don't think you should talk to your wife like you did."

"You love it," Sherlock replied with a grin and wink before opening the door.

...

"He was murdered in the dead of the night," Lestrade said. "No one found him until this morning when the girlfriend came back after staying at a friend's last night."

"So how long has he been dead?" Sherlock wondered as Scarlett stayed back, her arms folded across her midriff as she watched Sherlock bend onto his knees and examine the body.

"I'd say seven hours," Lestrade said. "He's smart as well...you just have to examine the clothes."

"Only designer," Sherlock agreed.

"They're not," Scarlett spoke up and the two men looked at her and Sherlock raised his brows.

"And why not?" Sherlock asked her.

"Look at the C's on the Chanel," Scarlett said, walking over to the body where the label was sticking out. "They're the wrong way round...it's a fake."

"A fake suit?" Lestrade wondered. "Why not just buy something from Next or Marks and Spencer's."

"He-"

"He was trying to impress someone," Scarlett interrupted Sherlock. "Women buy fake designer goods instead of High Street brands all the time in the feeble attempt to impress people...and look at his hair."

"What about his hair?" Lestrade asked.

"Neatly cut," Scarlett said as she looked at the blonde straight hair. "He straightens it and keeps pride in his looks. He has a hint of make up on too...looks like foundation to me..."

"Are you quite done putting me out of business?" Sherlock asked her with a grin on his face as she smirked back at him.

"Sorry dear," she said.

"Did the girlfriend give you any information about him?" he asked Lestrade.

"He's an artist," Scarlett replied and Sherlock looked at her and then nodded as he looked at the man's hands.

"He has the hands for it," Sherlock confirmed.

"I was looking at the paintings on the wall. They're signed by a Harry," Scarlett spoke up and then yawned.

"But the main question is," Sherlock began, "why is he dead?"

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" Lestrade piped up and Sherlock nodded.

"Of course."

...

"That was quite impressive," Sherlock told Scarlett as they walked out the house. Sherlock undid a button to his shirt and ran a hand through his hair. "You managed to deduce he was a fake and his job by observing your surroundings."

"I must be picking up on your traits," she grinned and he chuckled.

"So now we go to the Tate Modern," Sherlock told Scarlett. "It's where he worked...I have a theory..."

"What is it?" she asked him.

"He's been in the local art news recently. He has a painting in the Tate Modern which is worth a fortune...but he's been buying cheap knock off clothes which shows he was possibly desperate for money and so offered to sell the painting but then backed out...and the buyer may not have liked that..." Sherlock concluded.

"So what do you think we're dealing with?" Scarlett asked. "Were the other victims artists?"

"No," Sherlock shook his head. "One was an archaeologist and one was a barrister..."

"So there is no link?" Scarlett checked.

"There is always a link," Sherlock replied. "We just need to find it."

...

"The painting was stolen," Sherlock told Scarlett as he stopped talking to the security guard and looked on at the same piece of art she was looking at.

"Stolen?" she checked.

"Last night...between ten and eleven when the cameras went down," Sherlock said and he clapped his hands together quickly. "We have to be dealing with some type of group..."

"Why would you think that?" she raised a brow.

"Why else would someone sell a famous painting if it weren't to make a profit?" Sherlock asked her and began to walk away, leaving her to chase after him.

"So what now?"

"We find out more about the other two victims and discover their deep dark secrets."

"And if they have no secrets?"

"Everyone has secrets."

...

"He's on the case," a man spoke down the phone to another man.

"What does he know?"

"He knows that the painting has been stolen."

"Yes," a chuckle came from the phone, "that fetched a tidy little profit this morning from out buyer in Australia."

"I imagine," he said dryly.

"So what do we do now?"

"We stop him before he uncovers what we're doing...if he finds out then the money goes and we're nothing..."

"What do you want me to do? His bird is with him at the moment."

"Lay low...he'll find nothing else out...he can't."

...

They say you're supposed to learn by your mistakes. Well apparently Scarlett Holmes hadn't done that. The last thing she had thought about was taking her pill that morning after she had sex with Sherlock. She was more concerned about losing all her clothes and maybe her husband. But she once again didn't know what to tell him. She would have to wait twenty eight days before she would know for certain. Little did she know that Sherlock knew already.

...

A/N: I've had a really busy few days but have managed to update this evening so I hope you all like it! And thank you to everyone who has reviewed and please, please, please do review!


	37. Chapter 37

"Sherlock," Scarlett whispered when they got back to Baker Street one evening. She was stood at the oven, cooking up a meal which she was positive Sherlock would not eat as he complained that digestion slowed him down when he was working on a case. She stirred the sauce to go over the boiling pasta as Sherlock created a mini crime lab around her, his hands constantly resting on his hips and his mouth always low as he muttered out complaints about things not being in the right order. She knew she had to tell him that she could be pregnant once again but she had hoped this time would be much easier. Unfortunately not when your husband was a sociopath. The days had slowly passed by and she had bought a test but she wanted to tell Sherlock before doing it.

"Hmm?" Sherlock asked her, looking under a microscope at the some slide he had placed in before his hands went through his hair quickly.

"I have something that I need to tell you," Scarlett said. "And I don't know-"

"Get down," Sherlock slowly drawled and Scarlett raised a brow, not noticing the red dot on her stomach.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

"Get down now," he spoke again, his eyes looking above the microscope as his wife complied with his request before there was the sound of a gunshot. Scarlett squealed for a moment whilst Sherlock dove from his stool and onto the floor as the sounds of gunfire sprayed everywhere. Scarlett's body shook violently as Sherlock placed his lean and slim figure on top of her petite one as papers flew to the floor beside them and cutlery dropped down. As soon as the firing had stopped, the consulting detective climbed from his wife's body and looked down at her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, reaching out for her hand and hauling her to her feet as she looked in the living room where the majority of damage had come from. Scarlett nodded once and Sherlock walked into the living room.

"I think that was a sign," he looked out the window and across the street where the direct opposite three windows were open.

"You only think?" Scarlett checked with him allowing irony into her voice and he looked at her condescendingly.

"Good job we were in the kitchen," Sherlock spoke. "Although those bullets managed to pierce the walls quite well and we should have shut the glass doors."

"I'll remember that next time someone shoots at our home."

"Sarcasm really does not suit you."

"Neither does being shot at."

"True," Sherlock agreed and sighed lightly. "It will all be okay," he said with a nod. "I know they're trying to warn me off the case but-"

"Well why don't you do as they want?" Scarlett snapped at him. "For once why can't you just leave something alone in the interests of your safety and mine?"

"Because-"

"I don't want to hear your excuses Sher-"

"But you asked me a question!"

"It was a rhetorical one."

"It wasn't spoken in the context of a rhetorical question," Sherlock informed her.

"Uh!" she snapped. "And I was getting so close to being able to tell you…"

"…something that I already knew," he finished off and her eyes went wide as she looked at him and his fell onto the floor as he rolled his sleeves up and Scarlett shook her head.

"Impossible…"

"The cycle in which you take your pills was broke that morning when I went with John and left you here."

"With no clothes."

"That's an irrelevant factor."

"I disagree."

"In comparison to this it is an irrelevant factor," Sherlock said.

"Well I suppose-"

"Then we can drop it," he said.

"Fine," she agreed with a nod of her head whilst Sherlock went quiet once again and he looked around the room and went about picking up discarded objects, pushing the glass to one side which was shattered on the floor. Scarlett stood still and watched him for a minute before realising he had said nothing about it at all to her.

"So you have nothing to say?" she raised a brow.

"Sometimes," Sherlock sighed. "Words are not needed."

"They help."

"Oh there is no denying that," Sherlock agreed. "But I don't know what to say. I never thought we would be in this boat again."

"But we are."

"Not yet. You don't know for certain."

"I have the test," she whispered. "Time had passed…and it's been three weeks…"

"So what are you waiting for?"

….

"Sherlock," Scarlett whispered his name as she moved out of the bathroom with the stick in her hand.

"And?" he raised a brow.

"It's positive…I'm…"

"You're pregnant," he clarified as he looked at the result which confirmed her beliefs. He nodded stiffly once and a smile fell onto Scarlett's small face as she thought about it. She wanted a family. But Sherlock didn't.

"You don't want it, do you?" Scarlett frowned at him and he just continued to stare at the result in pondering.

"I…I didn't want Rose…" he told her and she nodded.

"I get it," she said. "You don't want a child and that's fine but I had hoped I'd be able to persuade you round to the idea of a mini you and a mini me in one…our own little baby to look after but-"

"Can you please stop before you continue this rant?" Sherlock raised a brow and she opened her mouth and then shut it like a goldfish.

"I didn't want Rose," Sherlock stated. "But then when you told me what had happened to her…well…yes…I was saddened…because it was a new life which had been lost and it was part of me too…and whilst I don't know if I can handle the responsibility of a baby…I think I…well…maybe…I'd like to try."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Scarlett asked him.

"What do you think I'm saying?"

"That you actually want to try and be a dad?"

"It's a new challenge," Sherlock shrugged. "And what other choice do I have?"

"You're sure about this?" she asked him.

"I do refuse to change any nappies though," Sherlock told her and went back to cleaning up. "And I also refuse to deal with the sickness side."

"You can't shrug off your responsibilities just yet," Scarlett said and helped him tidy up whilst he grinned.

"But we shall worry about responsibilities in ten months time."

"Nine," Scarlett corrected him.

"Pardon?" he asked.

"It takes nine months for a woman to have a child."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Scarlett nodded. "How do you not know that?"

"Trivial knowledge is not needed in my brain," he waved it off. "It's not important how long it takes."

"It is for me!" Scarlett replied with a laugh. "I can't believe that! It's like the solar system all over again!"

"Are you mocking me?" Sherlock raised a brow as she laughed and he raised a brow.

"Not at all," she said and kissed him on the cheek.

…

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! So that means…thank you to nhaquyen, England's Rose, Katina and Borderline Sociopath. Had a quiet day lecture wise so I thought I would update! Hope you liked it! After this story is complete (which is soon!) I have a series of one shots I am planning to do which tells of Sherlock and Scarlett with their child and the troubles of that one! Let me know what you think as always!


	38. Chapter 38

"And what is the link?" John asked Sherlock as he stretched wide and continued walking down the street with his friend. Sherlock was walking quickly, a smile on his face as they headed to Scotland Yard to tell Lestrade about what they had found out.

"They all had a valuable piece of artwork that someone wanted...that someone was willing to kill for."

"And do you know who?" John raised a brow.

"No idea," Sherlock shook his head. "I've met many odd people in my time John but I am not on a first name basis with them all."

"I just wondered-"

"I wish you'd stop doing that," Sherlock drawled. "It can't be good for your brain."

"Oh very funny," John rolled his eyes. "So why am I here?"

"Because I have a way to find out who is doing this."

"So why are we going to Lestrade?"

"Because I want backup in case things go wrong. I am not in the mood for risking my life."

"Did I just hear correctly?" John asked, his mouth hanging open slightly as Sherlock nodded.

"What has happened to you?"

"The realisation that I am soon to be a father hit me."

...

Scarlett yawned loudly as she rolled over to see an empty space next to her and she hit the cushion. He had gone once again. Not to mention the fact he hadn't even told her where he was going. The flat was cold due to the smashing of the windows in the main room only being covered up by plastic sheets the previous night when the police had come. And so Scarlett found herself wearing Sherlock's grey winter coat into bed that evening whilst the consulting detective didn't change and stayed up reading through case files and thinking. Suddenly, she heard the scraping of a chair from the living room and she pursed her lips before standing out of the bed, keeping the coat wrapped around her in the cool morning air as she moved down the hallway.

"Sherlock?" she asked. "Is that you?"

"You wish it was," a sudden voice said and she turned around in the kitchen to see a tall man with black hair stood in front of her with Sherlock's experimental pan in his hand. Scarlett quickly ducked down as he tried to hit her with the pan and then lunged forward and pushed him backwards before running into the living room, jumping over the armchair as she noted another man stood in the doorway to the hall.

"What is this?" she snapped.

"Don't worry," the man in the doorway spoke, "you have your boyfriend to thank for this."

"For what?" she asked and then he raised a gun in his hand as she gulped. There was no point even trying to escape from the mess. Scarlett's eyes went wide as she looked behind the man with the gun and the next thing she heard was a bang sound and the man clambered to the floor. Scarlett took no time in rushing over to the other man and kneeing him in the groin before picking up the glass vase on the shelves near the glass doors and slamming it over his head.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked Scarlett as she looked at the woman who had knocked the man in the doorway out.

"I'm fine," Scarlett said. "How...how did..."

"John leant me a key," she told Scarlett. "Sherlock said he didn't want you being alone and I was his only option."

Sarah looked at the umbrella she had used as a weapon in her hands before placing it into the umbrella stand where it would dry out from the rain which was splashing against the plastic sheets.

"Thank you," Scarlett said and Sarah nodded.

"You're more than welcome," she spoke and pulled out her phone, "I think I shall let John know of this little incident and then we'll call the police."

...

"Why were they here?" Sarah asked Scarlett as she held Sherlock's coat around her and shrugged.

"I'm guessing it was to get Sherlock off the case he's working on."

"What's the case to do with?"

"He thinks the link is something to do with artwork being worth a lot of money and people selling it on...but those who don't want to sell it are shot for not cooperating."

"Jesus Christ," Sarah sounded disgusted as they stood outside Baker Street, watching on as the two men were arrested and the rain slowed to a halt.

"Are you alright?" a sudden voice asked Scarlett and she turned around to see Sherlock stood behind her before she wrapped her arms around his neck and he allowed his to snake around her waist.

"I'm fine..." she said. "Just shook up."

"Well don't worry," Sherlock told her. "Lestrade is going to interview them and they will surely tell us who they're working for."

"No need," John's voice suddenly spoke up and Sherlock let go of Scarlett but she seemed adamant to remain holding onto him as her hand remained firmly in his as he looked at John.

"Why is there no need to find out who he is working for?"

"Because one of the henchmen just told us who it is," John said. "He wanted a lower sentence and so he blabbed."

"And who is it?"

"Sebastian Moran."

...

If technicality had anything to say it would be that Lestrade should have gone straight to the bank to arrest Moran. But, using his powers of persuasion Sherlock had been allowed five minutes to talk to his old university friend. Scarlett had pleaded with him to just let the police do their job but her pleas fell onto death ears. And so, Sherlock climbed up the escalators with John in tow whilst Scarlett remained outside with Sarah in a local cafe.

"What are you going to do?" John asked Sherlock.

"You shall see," he said and strode up to the main desk where he was told to wait for a moment before being escorted into the familiar office where he sat in his leather chair, leaning forward and writing out something on a piece of paper. The secretary shut the door as he leaned back, clasping his hands together and looking at the consulting detective who remained stone cold as John stood beside him.

"What a surprise to see you here," Sebastian told Sherlock who cocked a brow.

"Really?" he asked. "Did you not think I would be able to solve this?"

"Solve what?" he asked, putting his best mask of confusion whilst Sherlock chuckled. "I'm truly baffled."

"Well that doesn't take a lot to achieve," Sherlock spat out.

"So your sole purpose here is to mock me?" Sebastian spoke dryly. "Same old Holmes."

"And same old Sebastian," Sherlock spoke, "always getting himself into trouble."

"May I ask what I've done?"

"Oh you can ask," Sherlock nodded. "But I shall not tell."

"Well in that case I don't know why you're here."

"Why are you looking around nervously then? Why are your pupils dilated and why are you sweating?" Sherlock wondered and Sebastian remained quiet. "You know exactly why I'm here."

"Bloody hell Sherlock," Sebastian muttered. "Is there any use in trying to lie to you?"

"No use at all and I'm not here to make this difficult for you," Sherlock said and he took a seat opposite him at the desk whilst John remained standing.

"How considerate," Moran snarled. "You normally like to make things difficult for me. Remember that time at breakfast when you told Tim I had slept with his girlfriend?"

"I try to be considerate," Sherlock said dryly. "And Tim had a right to know what you were getting up to. He was too simple and didn't even notice his girlfriend going missing with you at the same time. I always pity the dumb...their minds are so dull. Now why are you trying to sell on paintings?"

"Why do you think?"

"I'd like to hear it from your mouth," Sherlock smirked. "It makes the feeling in my stomach even better."

"I'm broke."

"Ah," Sherlock drawled and leant his head back and closed his eyes for a moment. "That does sound nice to hear after years of having to hear you bragging about how you were going to make millions."

"I did make millions," Sebastian snapped back.

"And then you lost them...and now I've found out."

"You just couldn't stay away, could you?" Sebastian snapped. "I tried to warn you off Sherlock...tried to keep you from the case but you wouldn't listen."

"I don't take orders from you or anyone else," Sherlock snapped. "And I may not have found out as quickly as I did but your henchman turned you in. Seems that you're not his favourite boss to work for."

"What can I say? You just can't get the staff these days."

"Why steal paintings?" Sherlock asked.

"Because I saw how smuggling could bring in a neat and tidy profit when you solved the case at the bank...it seemed like a quick and easy solution and paintings are easy to get your hands on these days as many seem to fetch a fortune if you know the right buyer."

"Well," Sherlock clapped his hands together, "that was most intriguing but if you don't mind I do have a nice home to go back to and your case is boring the life out of me..."

"Will your little wife be at home?" Moran raised a brow. "Yes...Mrs Scarlett Holmes. The soon to be mother of your child if I am correct...odd...you don't seem committed to her."

"I am committed to her," Sherlock replied brashly. "And I shall have no one else tell me otherwise."

"Well answer me this question then Sherlock," Moran leaned forward as Sherlock gave John the signal to text Lestrade, "why did you continue on the case even after I had told you that doing so could get her killed? I know why...because you don't love her truly, do you? If you did you would have backed off...it's true what they say about you."

"And what is it they say? I do love to know the idle gossip and especially when it concerns me...the fame may go to my head soon"

"You may joke Sherlock," Moran chuckled. "But it just proves the theory is correct."

"And the theory is..."

"You truly don't have a heart."

...

A/N: So it was Sebastian! Ha! Anyway...still another chapter to come and then I am thinking of beginning my one shots and seeing how Sherlock copes as a father! Should be...well...intriguing. Please do review!


	39. Chapter 39

"Sherlock took off," John told Scarlett as soon as he saw her and Sarah stood outside a cafe in the warm moist air after the rain had fallen.

"What do you mean?" Scarlett asked him.

"As soon as Lestrade came up he ran off and didn't say a word," John shrugged. "I don't know where he went but he had left before I had a chance to see where he was going."

"Why did he do that?"

"I don't know," John muttered. "Sebastian said some things..."

"What did he say?"

"He said that Sherlock couldn't truly love you because he kept on working the case," John told Scarlett and she shook her head.

"Did he seem upset by it?" she asked him urgently. She knew how Sherlock's mind worked. He analysed every word which was spoken to him and he analysed it to within an inch of its life and that scared Scarlett deeply.

"Slightly," John admitted. "He tried not to show it but he went pale..."

And that was all it took for Scarlett to begin running off down the street. Her feet splashed into puddles as she ran down the street, trying to push people out of her way until she found a cab and climbed into it after jumping out in front of it, pleading for it to stop. She sat on the edge of her seat until it pulled up to 221B Baker Street and she handed the cabby some money from her purse before fishing around for her keys. She quickly walked into the flat and dropped her bag at the bottom of the stairs and pushing her feet from her wet shoes.

"Sherlock!" she called up the steps as she took them quickly. "Sherlock!"

"Yes?" Sherlock's voice came from the living room as he stood near the window which had been mended. He had his hand hanging out from it as Scarlett raised a quizzing brow at him.

"You didn't come back with John," she told him, walking slowly over to the window as Sherlock closed his eyes and flexed his arm which was still in the window.

"I needed some time alone," he grunted as Scarlett stood before him and peered her head out the window to see what he was holding.

"You're smoking?" she asked, moving back in after seeing a cigarette in his hand.

"No," he shook his head.

"Well you're holding a cigarette," Scarlett informed him.

"I am well aware of my own body's actions," he replied in a slight snap before flexing his arm once again and Scarlett undid the buttons to his cuff and rolled his sleeves up to see four nicotine patches on his arm.

"I'm trying to make a choice on what I desire the most," Sherlock told her. "Like I did before."

"What are you talking about?" Scarlett raised a brow.

"I chose the case Scarlett," he told her in a deep and low voice. "I chose the case over you."

"I knew you would," she replied. "It didn't come as a shock."

"But it should have," Sherlock suddenly exclaimed and dropped the cigarette from his hand, allowing it to tumble to the floor before he paced up and down the living room with his hands going through his hair. "It should have annoyed any normal wife that their own husband would rather put her in danger than stay home and be bored."

"But I'm not a normal wife," Scarlett replied. "I'm married to you."

"Exactly," Sherlock clicked his fingers. "And you should have been bothered by it but you weren't...maybe Sebastian was right."

"Bullcrap," Scarlett hissed. "He was right about nothing!"

"Maybe he was," Sherlock shrugged. "Maybe the thrill of the case-"

"Do you care more for the case than for me?" Scarlett snapped at him. Sherlock remained silent for a moment before Scarlett shouted;

"Answer me!"

"No," Sherlock said quickly. "God damn it no...I try to keep you safe but it never seems to work! And he did warn me you'd get hurt but I said I would carry on. What does that tell you?"

"It tells me that you care for the people who could get hurt-"

"Now you're talking stupid. I don't care for the people Scarlett. People are dying every few minutes so what makes them so special that I should care about them?" Sherlock declared. "Do I really love you?"

"You can't ask me that," Scarlett shook her head. "Only you know the answer to that."

"I thought I did," Sherlock whispered. "But...if I loved you then I wouldn't have carried on with the case..."

"And if you didn't love me then you wouldn't have married me," Scarlett hissed and rose up her hand which showed her engagement and wedding ring. "Does this mean nothing to you?"

"Of course it means something-"

"Then you're overanalysing everything which Sebastian told you," Scarlett hissed. "Do you want me to leave you? Do you want nothing to do with me or your baby?"

"No-"

"There you go then," Scarlett replied.

"But normal people wouldn't have put you in danger..."

"And you're not normal," Scarlett told him and walked over to him, resting her hand onto his cheek. "I knew you were not a usual man when I first met you and yet I still married you. I know the cases mean a lot to you and I can't pretend I wasn't saddened when you didn't drop the case...but...it's the mystery which you need and...well...I understand Sherlock...you like the danger..."

"So why are you still with me?" he asked her.

"Because I love you. Is that not enough?"

"It shouldn't be."

"But is it?"

"I don't know..."

"I do," Scarlett said forcefully. "Do you love me?"

"I thought I did..."

"No," Scarlett shook her head. "When you love someone you don't need to think about it. It is something which comes naturally, not something which you can look up in text books and research...it's what we have Sherlock."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm always sure," she replied cockily, "don't question your wife."

And for once, Sherlock Holmes didn't question her.

...

A/N: So that is the last chapter of the story! But don't worry my dear readers...I have my one shots which may begin tonight if you're lucky! And so I say a large thank you to all of my readers and my constant reviewers and do look out for the one shots! Thank you!


End file.
